


Athanasia

by leftfoottrapped (miikkaa_xx)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:45:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4305609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miikkaa_xx/pseuds/leftfoottrapped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vampire!AU. Needing a companion, Chen transforms Tao, and so ensues centuries of coming to terms with being vampires together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Athanasia

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings:** language, violence, explicit sex, lots of mentions and uses of blood, minor character death.

-

**1756**

This is how Jongdae makes Zitao.

They speak of a wraith, that creeps among the newly fallen and drinks from their still-living bodies until they’re dead. It’s because of the wraith, they say, that it’s better to simply die in battle then be injured.

Zitao meets the wraith in the middle of the night, with rain coming down, sliding down his cheeks in a parody of tears when he is too exhausted to cry out in his own pain. There is an arrow stuck in Zitao’s side, sluggishly bleeding out, making each breath sear pain right through him. He is nineteen and going to die on some field far from home over a conquest he doesn’t believe in.

The rain halts for a moment, and Zitao sees it’s because of someone’s head hovering above Zitao’s. It’s too dark to make any distinct facial features, and Zitao’s eyesight is beginning to blur anyway. Is this a rescue?

‘I saw you fighting,’ says the wraith. The voice is low. Boyish. ‘Do you want to live?’

Zitao’s heart thuds heavily in his ears, his fingers twitching in the dirt underneath, as his throat works past the blood and mud and rain choking him: ‘Yes.’

‘Do you want to live and keep fighting?’

‘Yes.’

The wraith tips his head to the side. ‘Say it again.’

‘ _Yes_ ,’ coughs out Zitao – desperate. Suddenly, he doesn’t want to feel this pain anymore, he doesn’t want to slip away. He wants his vision to clear, he wants to stand up. He wants to dig this arrow out of his ribcage and _live_.

‘Then hold on,’ murmurs the wraith. ‘This will hurt.’ Before something sharp is sinking into Zitao’s collarbone and he struggles and screams, trying to flail out, kick the weight over him off, but the pain overwhelms, a tidal wave, until Zitao drowns and everything goes dark.

-

**2015**

Zitao wakes at sunset. At least the tug in his gut tells him it’s sunset, even if the curtains block out any light. Beside him on the bed, Jongdae is still asleep – everything about him unchanged even hundreds of years later. Still a bit small, hair soft, features a bit delicate. Zitao leaves him be as he moves out of the bedroom into the dim hallway.

The humans smell strongest as they walk up the stairs of the building – their perspiration making them so noticeable – and Zitao counts the seconds until they knock on the apartment door.

‘We’re the movers,’ says one.

‘Here’s the invoice,’ says another.

Zitao’s nose flares when he reaches out to take the paper, but he holds himself back, smiles, polite. ‘The boxes are already packed and in the living room.’

The movers nod – skin pale and eyes glinting as they turn on the lights while moving through the empty apartment. The smell of pumping blood is so, so heady that Zitao slumps against the wall beside the door, watching with his mouth parted open, waiting, waiting.

After a few boxes have been taken out, one of the movers glances over at him. ‘You sure you want to do this at night? It’s dark out.’

‘We’re sure,’ says a voice. Zitao glances over his shoulder to see Jongdae coming down the hallway. He still has bedhair, makes him look young, younger than Zitao. The mover shrugs and goes down the stairs with a box, and Jongdae tangles his fingers together with Zitao’s. ‘Behave.’

Whining from the back of his throat, Zitao pushes off the wall and curls around Jongdae. tucking his face into Jongdae’s neck. ‘Smell so _good_.’

‘I know,’ murmurs Jongdae. ‘Soon.’

-

When Jongdae had asked Zitao, ‘where do you want to go next?’ after they had successfully risen the rate of suspicious deaths in Daejeon in the past twenty years, Zitao had slid his fingers haphazardly over the map pulled up on the laptop screen and clicked his nails against ‘Seoul’.

‘You’re hundreds of years old and you still have accented Korean,’ snorts Jongdae.

‘But it’s _big_ ,’ says Zitao, tracing the outline of the city. ‘Lots of blood.’

‘Lots of other vampires too.’

Zitao pauses, pulls his hand away. ‘Where does Chenchen want to go next?’

Jongdae looks at him. ‘I want to go where you go.’

‘That’s not fair.’ Zitao scowls. ‘At least make a suggestion.’

To Zitao’s annoyance, Jongdae shrugs. ‘Seoul.’

‘Chenchen!’

‘I’m not scared of other vampires.’ Jongdae reaches over and tangles their fingers together, expression soft. ‘Not anymore, isn’t that right?’

Immediately, Zitao squeezes Jongdae’s hand, doesn’t let him pull away. ‘Yes.’

-

It should only be a two hour drive – but the entire endeavour takes five hours. The boxes are carried up and stacked in their new apartment, less work because of the elevator in the building. Zitao sits on the kitchen counter, inhaling the smell of sweat and blood coming from each of them, as Jongdae thanks the movers and signs the invoice, gives over the payment.

He goes down the elevator with the movers. Zitao follows.

The movers are nice people. They wave goodbye as they drive their truck away. Standing on the sidewalk, Jongdae looks pale and small under the streetlamp lights. He looks up at Zitao, then gestures in the direction the truck has gone. ‘Drink your fill. Come back before dawn.’

A thrill runs through Zitao’s veins. He leans down, kisses Jongdae on the cheek, and is off.

-

When he returns to the apartment, he sees Jongdae has already unpacked most of their stuff. There are some trinkets scattered here and there, a favourite blanket thrown over the couch, a few pictures on the wall of places they’ve been, seen. Never themselves. The kitchen is decidedly empty, with all the appliances unplugged, and only the steady ticking of a clock Jongdae bought over twenty years ago fills the silence.

The blinds in the living room have been replaced with heavy cloth curtains to block the light, and in the bedroom is the same. Jongdae’s changed the sheets to Zitao’s favourite blue and is curled on top of them, dressed down to undershorts and one of Zitao’s shirts. It makes him seem so small.

Though it’s close to dawn – maybe an hour off – Jongdae rouses sleepily as Zitao sits on the bed beside him. ‘Are you full?’

Zitao hums, moving to cage Jongdae in – forearms pressed on either side of Jongdae’s head, his knees at the other’s hips, as he dips down and noses along Jongdae’s jaw. ‘Too easy.’

‘That’s how it should be,’ laughs out Jongdae. He reaches up and cards his fingers through Zitao’s hair. ‘Did you leave a mess?’ _For me to clean up_ remains unsaid.

‘No. No, left them alive. Unconscious.’

-

**1756**

‘You can just bite into them,’ sighs Jongdae. ‘No need to rip their jugulars out.’

Zitao is newborn and ravenous and _wants_. Wants _everything_ – to run and drink and feel so, _so_ good. He drinks from another fallen soldier, his third, before dropping their dead body on the ground and moving onto finding the next one.

It’s unfair – just when Zitao hones in on the sound of a fluttering heartbeat amidst the dark field, Jongdae is grabbing his arm. ‘We don’t have time to keep feeding.’

He rips his arm away, whining. It hadn’t taken long for Zitao to figure out he is faster, stronger, hungrier than Jongdae, that he can get away if he wanted. But –

‘Alright.’ Jongdae’s voice is soft, slow, as he turns around on his heel, back to Zitao. ‘I’ll leave you here. There are still dying soldiers on this field for me.’

Immediately, Zitao is at his side, nuzzling into his neck all, ‘sorry, I’m sorry, Chenchen, please don’t leave me alone.’

-

Home for them is a farming shack settled near the blazed over farming fields that Zitao died on. The windows are boarded up against the sun, and the only things that remain are two cots, a teapot, some cracked cups, and the remains of a fire pit. When Zitao asked for the humans who lived here, Jongdae shrugs, 'they're dead.'

Zitao looks at him. 'Did you kill them?'

'Wouldn't you like to know,' says Jongdae, a slight smile on his mouth, eyes dark and ominous.

Only later, he finds the corpses of the supposed farmers in the back, their limbs torn apart and throat slashed open. He wonders if it's a warning - what Jongdae could do to him should Jongdae get sick of him.

The shack itself has been scrubbed clean lately. It has Zitao reminisce of the first night, the nights after that. The beginning of being _this_ \- a vampire.

It begins something like this: once bitten, Zitao vaguely remembers screaming in pain the entire time as Jongdae carried him here. Felt the inside of his body enter the rigor mortis of death, his bodily fluids that he no longer needed seeping out of him in a disgusting mess, and his being screaming for oxygen that Zitao couldn't take in properly from his no-longer functioning lungs. Like a slow suffocation for seven days, only helped by the fact that Jongdae fed him from his wrist - pressed blood to Zitao's open lips and let him lick and swallow like he was starved.

Jongdae takes care of him for that long week - in a strange, soft way. He wipes Zitao down, keeps him as sated as he can while Zitao is gasping and arching in sheer agony - his body reversing its processes one by one. On those days, the only things Zitao really remembers is Jongdae's expressionless face and the taste of his blood - unbearably sweet and good.

When Zitao finally wakes from the pain, he feels light, as if moving through a dream. Jongdae says, 'finally', and lets Zitao out of the shack into the night. 'I am your sire, and you are my childe.'

Zitao marvels at the way he moves - so light on his feet, feeling strength within his bones - and looks at Jongdae, who seems almost fragile in comparison. Not ethereally terrifying anymore. 'Did your bite transform me? Into a wraith like you?'

'Wraith, demon, vampire, nightwalker, bloodsucker,' says Jongdae. 'Hell, a blood-drinking _god_. Take your pick.'

'So it's true then - you drink blood to survive,' says Zitao.

'I drink blood, but I don't have to kill. That's a choice,' he says. 'My name is Jongdae, but you will call me Chen.'

'Jongdae?' He tastes it on his tongue, tries it again. 'Zhongda?'

For the first time, Jongdae huffs out a half-smile, shrugging. 'Or Zhongda.'

Zitao hums in thought. 'Chenchen can speak the language well for not being around here.'

'Chenchen...' trails off Jongdae, brows drawing together, and it has Zitao grin to himself. He expects some sort of reprimand for not showing respect to his elder, something to make him go back to hesitantly calling out sire when he needed the other. Instead, all Jongdae does is sigh and shake his head, as if waving the nickname away. 'Then that's how we'll communicate.'

The declaration catches him off-guard, but Zitao shakes it off, introduces himself. 'I'm Zitao, from a fishing village far away from here.'

'Then that's where we'll go,' says Jongdae, gesturing for Zitao to follow him. 'But first, we stay and I teach you to feed. Come on.'

-

Zitao's first concern is thirst and everything else is secondary. He sates himself among the dying soldiers in the battlefields, the ones that Zitao kills because they will not survive and the agony is too much. After that, his thoughts drift to who he's left behind. It's soothing to know that Jongdae is leading him home - he has his family to think about, to want to check on his neighbours and friends and make sure that they're safe. After that, Zitao doesn't know.

These are the three things that Zitao knows: he is a creature of night, he is absolutely and utterly alone, and Jongdae is a nebulous, manipulative ally to have.

There are apparent traditions in the masses of the undead. Jongdae introduces himself as the sire, and so Zitao supposes Jongdae wants him to respect that authority, and let Jongdae hang around him to make sure his childe is alive and healthy. He cannot imagine what Jongdae's end goal is regarding him, especially since he gives no indication of being a good companion.

Jongdae is good at smiling and lying, at manipulating farmers to let them sleep in their barn, despite being the dead of night when the conversation takes place. He knows tidbits of info on different traditions and practices - speaks to holy men and women for their patronage should he not be able to get something. He's small too - fakes weakness and softness with his pretty face and small hands, until someone approaches and Jongdae can get his teeth in their throat, drink till he is satisfied.

Zitao is at once wary and admiring. He understands what he has to do to not be recognized as a vampire, understands that dead bodies are better left unseen rather than lying in the street or field, and that there are advantages to being young and beautiful that Zitao never got to know properly before he was enlisted in the lord's army with the other youth of the village.

Still - Jongdae makes him nervous, skittering. Though every time he gets the idea of leaving, he realizes that he'll die out there, lost, not knowing what to do with his body and his needs. He needs Jongdae, and Jongdae has no pity when it comes to reminding Zitao of this fact - 'you can go somewhere else whenever you want,' he croons, his voice pleasant and low. 'Just make sure you know where you're going or else you'll burn up in the fields.'

-

Once they do reach Zitao's village, Zitao sneaks through shack after shack, and feels his frozen heart deaden with weight of knowing all the others that enlisted are either dead or came home gravely injured. He goes to his parents last - smelling Jongdae standing outside the door, an unmoving presence - as he enters the shack to look for them.

There is only his mother, and Zitao can't help it - he wakes her up.

She startles, blinking blearily through the night, and manages a weak, 'Tao?' as she tries to get her bearings. 'Tao?'

'Mama,' blurts Zitao, feels tears spring up almost immediately, and starts crying. 'Where's baba?'

He knows she's confused still, looking around the darkness of her home, at her son kneeling at her side, looking up with watery eyes, but she answers quickly. 'He's gone, Taotao. You didn't come home, and he went out to sea with the ship, and... didn't come back either.'

'What...' Zitao doesn't even register when the tears start to fall, staining his cheeks.

'Mi tao,' she murmurs, 'xiao mi tao... you're crying blood... Are you gone too?'

Surprised, Zitao wipes at his cheeks, looks at his fingers to see the red there. 'N-No - I - ' he stutters, but his voice falls away, staring at her hopelessly. For the first time, Zitao feels unspeakably alone.

_Do you want to live?_

He glances to the door of the shack, mumbles 'Chenchen' under his breath, not knowing what he wants, what he should do.

Almost immediately, Jongdae is there, leaving the door open to let the reflected moonlight of the ocean to splash through onto the floorboards. 'Yes,' he says, going on his knees next to Zitao's mother, across from Zitao. She looks between the two, more surprised. 'He died in the second campaign, far from home. He thought of you both before he died. He wanted to live to see you.'

Zitao stares at Jongdae, almost in wonder, as Jongdae's expression crinkles up into softness, smile so pretty on his face, pushing up his cheeks. 'He wanted to say goodbye.'

'Another spirit?' she asks him.

'Escort for Tao,' he agrees.

Turning back to Zitao, she lifts her hand, cups his cheek, smiles. 'Raised you well, didn't I?'

'Yes,' he tells her, leaning into the touch, before hearing a sharp thud. Eyes wide, Zitao sees his mother collapsed, unconscious, on the cot, and Jongdae unclenching his fingers.

'Let her think she was visited by spirits,' he tells Zitao.

_Do you want to live?_

Zitao nods silently and leaves.

-

The next night, Zitao and Jongdae go back and smell smoke in the air.

'They burned my things and let it out to sea,' says Zitao, sitting on the beach as he watches the waves wash up on the shore and draw back.

'It's better this way,' says Jongdae.

'Did you have parents? Family?'

'Parents and a big brother.' Jongdae peers into the night. 'They all died from age or sickness, and I was... bitten before that could happen to me.'

_Do you want to live?_

'You never warned me,' says Zitao, voice hollow. 'You never told me that to live, I'd become some... some demon and never get to see my family again.'

'You're right.'

The admission makes Zitao's head shoot up in surprise, looking over at Jongdae, who still looks up at the half-moon of the night. 'And...? What am I missing? That I'll die too if I didn't do what I did last night? That I'm still wrong, even if I'm right?'

Jongdae looks at him, the confusion in his expression slowly melting away the longer he traces his eyes over Zitao. 'I'm sorry, Zitao.'

Zitao stares back, until he's crying again, drawing his knees to his chest and burying his face in them. After a moment, Jongdae throws an arm around Zitao's shoulders and holds him close.

_Do you want to live?_

'But - But - I still - I still want - to l-live - ' sobs Zitao, muffled and desperate, feeling the guilt lodged in his throat begin to unclog as he finally says it out loud, clinging to Jongdae, trying to hide himself.

'I know,' replies Jongdae. 'It's okay.'

When Jongdae tells Zitao he'll be leaving the next night to a town Zitao doesn't know, Zitao follows. 'You haven't taught me everything yet.'

'True,' he says. 'You might be stuck with me for a long time then.'

Zitao doesn't reply, but he wonders if Jongdae can tell that Zitao might not mind doing just that.

-

**2015**

This is how their first night goes – in that hour just before the dawn, before they will succumb to sleep.

Jongdae is the weak one between them both and already drowsy, all his edges gone soft as he eases himself open, limbs all spread out on the sheets. With the undershorts gone and the shirt pushed to his collarbone, Jongdae loses the illusion of fragility when Zitao can trace the musculature shifting under his pale skin.

Too sleepy to stretch himself open, Zitao does it for him – his fingers trembling with reverent servitude as he hooks his fingers at Jongdae’s rim and slowly gets him loose, watching in awe as Jongdae’s back arches and exhales noisy, loud, a _Zitao, now_ caught in the undertow.

So Zitao slicks his cock up and slides into Jongdae, eyes closing at how warm and tight Jongdae is every time they do this – that even decades upon centuries later, fucking Jongdae will still feel like the first time, the last time.

Gasping, he leans over Jongdae, lets Jongdae cup his jaw, guide his face so he’s baring his neck to the side. Jongdae smiles up at him, ‘is this for me?’

‘Yes,’ sighs out Zitao, hips rocking steady and deep, pushing up against Jongdae’s ass. ‘Yours, all yours.’ Buries his face into Jongdae’s shoulder, he cups his hands under Jongdae's ass and spreads him open, fucks in deeper. Jongdae gasps and arches, pushes back against Zitao's hips, 'again, fuck, _again_.'

After decades upon centuries, Zitao knows this rhythm well. Even with Jongdae drowsy from the oncoming sunrise, Zitao wakes him up with each thrust - nails into him hard and deep, the way that makes Jongdae moan and claw at Zitao's shoulders for more. In the blackness of the room, Zitao's eyes can still see each detail - the veins in Jongdae's neck when he swears, how skin moves over muscle, stomach tight with the need to come.

'Please,' begs Zitao. ' _Please_.' He buries his face against Jongdae's shoulder, hips working hard into the body underneath. The blood running through his veins makes him feel hot, like he's going to melt inside-out, from how good it feels to fuck Jongdae, to be close to him, to have Jongdae - so small and weak in comparison - spread out and open for Zitao to sink into.

But Jongdae hasn't had blood yet - his skin is still cool, but not cold, not with Zitao's cock opening his ass up and making his body twist and arch. Even like this, Jongdae is a reprieve. A place for Zitao to hide, to relax for a little while and _not_ think. The only thing that matters is where they are connected - Jongdae's open, panting mouth against Zitao's ear, his cool fingers pressing into Zitao's shoulders for a grip, the way his spine arches so Zitao's cock can push into him so fucking deep that Jongdae can't do anything but moan.

'Going to come?' asks Jongdae, his voice low, curling around Zitao so he can't help but slam his hips harder against Jongdae's ass, bury himself deep. 'Come inside of me, _fuck_ , Taozi?'

'Yes,' hisses Zitao, mouthing wetly at Jongdae's neck, his fangs catching on the skin, desperate for something to bite into, for something to stop him from moaning so pathetically as he keeps fucking Jongdae. 'Please, _please_.' He tilts his head to the side, displaying his neck, how the tendons strain from how much he's trying to hold back. ' _Master_.'

Immediately, Jongdae's nails dig into Zitao's shoulder, his knees clamped around Zitao's waist, and Zitao feels pinned, thinks he could suffocate here if he knew how to breathe, when Jongdae's teeth skim down Zitao's throat. 'Yes,' he says. 'My pretty, _perfect_ childe,' and with that, Jongdae is sinking his teeth into Zitao's neck, tongue lapping up the blood that spills forth so warm and still fresh.

Zitao gasps and shudders - pleasure shooting through his entire body - as Jongdae sucks from his neck. Intimate and hot, Zitao lets his eyes roll back and lose his control, slamming hard and fast into Jongdae's ass. Jongdae takes it, easy and open, as he drinks deep from Zitao, releasing endorphins through his system, wave after wave, so that Zitao can't even _think_. Just fucks into Jongdae - his cock straining and balls tight against his body with the rising urge to come.

Then Jongdae is rolling his hips, inviting Zitao's cock as deep as it can go, as his ass goes tight around Zitao's dick inside. His fangs pull back long enough for a loud, stuttered, 'fuck, I'm coming, so good, you're so good, Taozi - ' before he's shuddering with a breathy wail as his cock twitches between them before painting Jongdae's stomach red. The sight is too pretty to look away from - Jongdae's body blood-streaked, stretched out underneath Zitao, his eyes blurry with lust.

Zitao mewls when Jongdae recovers from the aftershocks and bites back into Zitao's neck and Zitao can't hold back anymore. The sight, the feel, the _blood_ , and he comes - his hands clutching Jongdae's ass and spreading him so wide with a grip that will leave bruises now that Jongdae has blood in his body. In only a few thrusts, Zitao is shaking hard, his orgasm rocking through him as Jongdae drinks deep from his throat.

It must be a minute later when Zitao feels something like awareness pierce through the waves of pleasure. When he comes to, Jongdae's fangs have retracted and he's petting Zitao's hair, crushed underneath Zitao's weight on top of him but not seeming to mind at all.

'Thank you for the meal,' murmurs Jongdae, and Zitao knows he's smiling. He raises his head from where it's buried against Jongdae's shoulder and takes in Jongdae. He rarely looks like this - so drowsy and soft, with a gaze that feels more like a blanket than a weight when it settles on Zitao, the corners of his mouth pressed up so gently. 'Should sleep now.'

'Yes,' murmurs Zitao, thumbing at the dip of Jongdae's lips, almost curiously. 'Master, I love you.'

Jongdae laughs aloud. 'That's right.' He nips at Zitao's thumb. 'And you'll take care of me, right? My childe?'

Zitao pulls out from Jongdae's ass, rearranging them so that he's comfy on his side and Jongdae is pressed up against his chest where Zitao can enfold him in his arms. 'Yes, always, always.'

-

**1772**

Jongdae is good with shielding Zitao from civilization - takes him to outskirts of cities or civil war battlefields after the fight is over and the crows have arrived. He walks along the countryside as the rumoured wraith Zitao has always heard of - small and delicate-featured, with small hands and a low, smooth voice.

A little part of Zitao thinks Jongdae is a sadist - takes some muted, unseen pleasure in promising dying soldier boys life before drinking deep and leaving them dead in fields so far from home.

'They die with hope,' says Jongdae. 'Isn't that a gift?'

'But I'm not dead,' says Zitao. 'You didn't kill me.'

'No,' and every time, Jongdae quietly reaches up and presses his fingers against Zitao's neck. 'Because you're special.'

-

It takes fifteen years for Zitao to learn why Jongdae is weak.

They hunt in a large town within the mountainous kingdom of Taiyuan for a while, Jongdae trying to teach him not to kill. To take his drinks from various humans rather than to drain one to the death. Or three as Zitao was still a growing childe. He wouldn't calm down till decades later, closer to when he was a century old.

Now, they're surrounded by life tucked away in their homes that are too easy to break into. Jongdae walks freely and easily for an hour, pointing out the easy hiding spots to leave unconscious humans. Zitao follows along until he smells something like dried blood in the distance. Dried _old_ blood.

It's Zitao's first encounter with others.

Jongdae doesn't smell them until Zitao feels almost overwhelmed with the scent - another thing that came with Jongdae's weakness. Even his senses were muted.

It's a duo - one round-faced with large features, the other pretty in a delicate way. Both of them are holding hands when they see Jongdae and Zitao. Jongdae stops talking when he catches sight of them, and Zitao is surprised to see him stand in front of Zitao even if he is shorter.

'Is this your hunting ground?' says Jongdae once the other two are close enough.

The pretty one shakes his head. 'Just a temporary stop. You?'

'We'll be gone by tomorrow,' he replies.

The round-faced one elbows his partner. 'I am Minseok, this is Luhan.'

'Chen,' says Jongdae before gesturing to Zitao. 'Tao.'

'Do you have a place to sleep?' asks Minseok, smiling over Jongdae's shoulder at Zitao. Zitao can't help it - he smiles back, eyes taking them both in. Their simple clothes to fit in with the townspeople, the way they were both pale with smiles that reached their pretty eyes. The way Jongdae's smiles rarely did. Zitao liked them already.

'Not yet. Still a couple hours till sunrise.'

'We have a place a few kilometres out,' says Minseok, even when Luhan looks over at him wide-eyed in surprise. 'Come when you're done feeding. It's been awhile since we've met some nightwalkers in the countryside.'

'Will do,' replies Jongdae stiffly, every part of him tense with distrust. Zitao has the urge to touch him.

Luhan stands aside, eyes scanning both Jongdae and Zitao, as Minseok gives them directions, before waving them goodnight.

-

Zitao is sated and warm in only an hour, drinking deep of three different families, while Jongdae only needs a few swallows from a couple bodies to suit him. It's easy to understand why - the stronger you are, the more blood you need.

'You can smell them, right?' asks Jongdae, wiping the blood droplets off his chin with his fingers and sucking them clean. Even after years of witnessing it, that habit of his makes Zitao squirm, though he's not sure why. Sometimes he thinks of asking Jongdae to stop doing it, but there's also a part of him that wants him to keep going. He pushes it aside and tries to focus.

'Yeah. They're not far off.' Zitao stretches out his arms. 'Want me to lead you?'

Jongdae nods, and they're leaving the town behind, sprinting through the fields through the clean, fresh air, path only lit by the moon.

The shack is sturdily built, the windows glowing with lamp light from inside, as Zitao approaches it. He can smell the old dried blood smell of the others and carefully knocks against the door, Jongdae beside him stretching his arms above his head as he looks around.

Luhan opens the door, scoffing. 'We could smell you from way off, you can just come in.'

'Just because we're dead doesn't mean we don't have manners,' replies Jongdae, and Luhan snorts, letting them in.

It's empty, because they don't need anything, except for the entrance to the cellar underground. The fire pit is unused and the cups and teapot are collecting dust. There are no cots, but a low table and cushions to sit on are in the middle. Minseok is sitting at the table, the oil lamp highlighting his features, showing off the subtle curve of his cheekbone and the flick of his eyelashes. He's lovely.

On the table are small origami shapes made of rice paper. Minseok's fingers fold another sheet, carefully using the edge of his nails to get the crease just right. Luhan stretches out on a cushion beside him, watching with bored eyes, and Jongdae takes a seat across from them. Zitao follows.

'You're royalty,' says Jongdae, peering over at the figures.

'Yes,' says Minseok. 'This is the only thing I remember from court. Even the language has changed in the last century. You?'

Jongdae shrugs. 'I'm just some kid. Tao had the honour of being a soldier in his lord's army.'

Luhan snorts. 'You can fight?'

Zitao blinks fast as the spotlight falls on him. 'Yeah. I was in command of a squadron.'

'You look so young,' muses Minseok. 'You must be good, aren't you, Tao?'

The compliment has Zitao smiling, a little shy. 'Yes.'

Jongdae hums in agreement but doesn't add anything - just watches the other two.

'What - what about you, Luhan-ge?' asks Zitao.

Luhan seems surprised at the question, then smiles. 'You call me 'ge'.' He straightens up. 'I'm a rich kid too, but younger than Minseok.'

Zitao looks between them. 'So, you're Minseok's childe?'

They both burst out laughing, shaking their heads. Luhan's eyes go half-lidded in remembrance. 'No. Minseok is my master, but not my sire.' Jongdae shifts beside Zitao, seemingly more interested in the origami than the conversation. There's a beat of hesitation, where Zitao wants to ask for more, but Luhan takes in a deep breath and keeps going. 'I was transformed for a couple decades before I met Minseok. Except my sire was threatened by another nightwalker on our territory. Finally, I killed my sire and Minseok took over as my master when I was weak.'

'Weak...' murmurs Zitao to himself, but Minseok catches it.

'You're so young,' he says, voice gentle. 'I only learned it a century back with Luhan. You can kill a childe without any repercussions, but killing the sire - the source of your power - leaves you without strength until you submit to someone else.' Minseok leans back against his hands. 'I was scared for Lu-ge, so we exchanged blood and now he's strong.'

Unable to help it, he looks over at Jongdae, who is still watching the figures on the table, his profile outlined by the lamplight - all sharp angles and no discernible reaction.

'Which one of you is the master?' asks Luhan, looking between them.

Jongdae looks up and shrugs. 'Neither.'

-

They live with Luhan and Minseok for a few months. The two take a liking to Zitao, and Zitao learns from them. Minseok keeps a cabinet of his royal silks and drapes them over Zitao, teaches him to pretty himself up in ways he never could when he was alive in his village. Luhan challenges him to fights, and Zitao finds himself wrestled to the ground, before Luhan shows him his fields. He grows rows and rows of flowers for Minseok, tangles half-bloomed buds in Minseok's hair or scents their home with bouquets.

Sometimes, Zitao will catch them with bruised mouths and darkened eyes, clothes slightly askew, hair a mess. Zitao knows what it means, but he doesn't ask about it. Just calls to them, 'Min-ge, Lu-ge,' until they straighten and welcome him back.

Jongdae gets along with them all. He teases Luhan and laughs with Minseok, learning from them as well. Zitao doesn't know how old Jongdae is - he seems younger than them with the way his eyes will land on them heavy and attentive when they speak to him, and he will ask questions, let them elaborate.

It's clear that Jongdae wants to keep their relationship ambiguous, so Zitao doesn't say anything about it. He learns more about Minseok and Luhan's instead. How Minseok travelled alone after his sire went off in another direction, and ran into Luhan. How he never created a childe but Luhan charmed him from the beginning. How they hunted together and Luhan showed him all that his sire had taught him. How he had been so, so scared when Luhan lost his strength, his senses, until Minseok gave it back to him.

Occasionally, Luhan will teasingly call Minseok 'master', just to make Minseok scowl at him. 'You know I'm not.'

Zitao tastes the words on his tongue. Sire and master, master and sire.

-

When they leave, finally - Zitao is bursting with questions.

Jongdae gets worried that with four vampires hunting around the shack for almost a year, suspicions will rise. So they bid Minseok and Luhan goodbye and set off on their own, promising to visit them again one day.

It's when they're gone by at least a hundred kilometres that Zitao looks over at Jongdae. 'Did you kill your sire?'

Jongdae looks at him. 'Yes.'

'Why?'

He shrugs. 'I don't like being ordered around by someone I don't respect.'

'But,' Zitao starts, something heavy and sad sinking into his stomach. 'But... now you're weak.'

'Yeah.' Jongdae sighs, raising a hand to look at it, flexing his fingers slowly. 'I didn't expect that to happen. It's too late now.'

Zitao toys with that information then, hesitantly, 'if we exchanged blood again, could I... give you back your power?'

He expects a snort of laughter, something like a mocking sound, because Zitao recognizes it's an ignorant, obvious question. Instead, Jongdae drops his hand back to his side and shakes his head. 'Sire-childe relationships can't be reversed like that. Anyway, I don't think I want a master.'

'Then you'll be weak forever, Chenchen,' he replies quietly.

'Yeah,' admits Jongdae, before he's reaching out and tangling his fingers with Zitao's. 'That's okay.'

They hold hands all throughout the night. It's strangely comforting.

-

**2015**

Seoul is a sprawling metropolis perfect for feeding. Zitao can skip between prefectures so as to avoid leaving a trail as to where they live should someone put the mysterious fainting spells of people together. They don't kill anyone yet - Jongdae wants to settle in first and make sure to chart out a territory first.

They live in relative peace for a year - Jongdae picks up poetry as a hobby again after a few decades' hiatus. Zitao's always had a knack for pretty things and Seoul has an endless supply to pluck at should it hit his fancy. They move their money to another bank and let the interest collect, growing richer with each passing year, enough for Zitao to indulge in whatever he likes.

'I want to buy a beautiful car,' croons Zitao, curled around Jongdae lazily while Jongdae sits on the couch. 'Something fast, lots of silver and chrome, and the colour could be blue or white. What do you think?'

Jongdae leans his back against Zitao's chest, tipping his head to the side so that Zitao's chin can settle onto his shoulder, as he keeps typing on his laptop. 'You need a driver's license first, Taozi,' he murmurs.

He knows a non-answer when he hears one. 'So I _can_ get one?'

'You know you can,' says Jongdae, looking over his shoulder with an unimpressed expression. 'My money is yours.'

'Say it again,' says Zitao.

Jongdae makes an exasperated noise. 'You spoiled brat.'

'Whose fault is that?'

Argument lost, Jongdae doesn't reply, so Zitao only nuzzles into his neck, fangs sliding out to nip at the skin. 'Master.'

'What do you want to hear?' asks Jongdae. 'That I'm yours too?'

Zitao's arms go around Jongdae's small waist and tighten their grip. 'Yes.'

'You know that already too.'

'Yes,' agrees Zitao, pressed up so close against Jongdae that he can't imagine letting go.

-

**1801**

They cross the ocean together. Neither of them know the language of this new country, but it doesn't matter when they have years to learn it.

For a small island, the cities sprawl out near the centre, and the roads are packed with people. Drinking is an easy feat; it is what's left over that is the challenge. It's fun - to pick up a new alphabet, try it out, trade words between him and Jongdae, who trips over his pronunciation and doesn't seem as old and put-together as he likes to appear.

Maybe the true meaning of immortality doesn't settle into Zitao's being until this moment. That he can go anywhere, be anyone. Bask in whatever new places can offer him, take it all in, and keep it forever. _Forever_.

He looks at Jongdae, who stumbles and tries new words, pulling a face when he gets it jumbled in his mouth.

Forever with Jongdae.

Zitao wonders if that's as awful as he had previously assumed.

-

It's not that Zitao dislikes Jongdae. Far from it.

They've been with each other for close to eighty years. It's hard to hate Jongdae - who is weak and small and likes touch. Sometimes, when cellars are too tight to fit, Jongdae does not even hesitate to tuck himself against Zitao, so soft and drowsy long before the sunrise sleepiness hits Zitao.

Zitao is weak to cute things - even if said cute thing is quick to tease, to push at Zitao until Zitao feels frustrated enough to have a temper, and then soothe him with smiles and touches as if he didn't mean a word. There's a part of him that knows Jongdae is playing him - using his sensitivity against him.

He wonders if Jongdae is scared of being alone. Of having his childe desert him in the middle of the night. Go far enough using legs that have more strength to the point where Jongdae would collapse instead of catch up.

'I could leave you, y'know,' he declares once, just to see the reaction.

Jongdae is sprawled on some cushions, tracing invisible kanji in the air using his finger, when he stops, blinking once. 'You could.'

'What would you do?'

He closes his eyes. 'I'd wonder why you would leave me without telling me. I'd be hurt.'

The words jab at Zitao's chest, incite the smallest pang of guilt that would soon turn into a flood if Zitao didn't try to tamp it down immediately. He still makes a small noise and crawls over to Jongdae, hovering above him, watching his face - how it's devoid of lines, so relaxed in all its sharp angles softened by laziness.

'You're mean, Chenchen,' accuses Zitao quietly.

Jongdae opens his eyes. 'Don't leave.'

It's the softness that gets to him. How closely the words are pressed against Zitao's face so he can't escape. He can't look away. 'I won't.'

-

Of course, a new city means new vampires. Zitao hunts alone for tonight, since Jongdae is already sated from his meal earlier this week. He smells the old blood before he sees the figure down the dark alleyway a minute later. Clearly the other one had followed Zitao's scent too.

'I'm Tao,' he calls out, holding out his hands in front of him. While they've had run-ins with other of their kind after Luhan and Minseok, they never stuck around too long. Zitao is curious about others like him - such a rare breed.

The figure moves, careful navigating outside of the shadows of the buildings and into the dim lamplight that illuminated the streets. He has a soft mouth and wide eyes, tall and lean.

'We're new,' says Zitao. 'Is this your territory?'

The boy nods. 'For a decade now. Me and my partner's.'

'I have a partner too - his name is Chen.'

Finally: 'My name is Jongin.' He chews on his bottom lip for a second. 'Do you want to meet Taemin?'

'Yes,' says Zitao.

-

Taemin looks eerily similar to Jongin, but somehow sleeker. They both have childishly bright smiles when Zitao introduces himself and are excited to share. They tease him for his stumbling grasp on the language, but press him to learn more. Explain in hand gestures and facial expressions.

They're not sweet and homely the way Minseok and Luhan are. Instead, they walk, laugh, tease. He gets caught up in their energy, finds himself half in love already for finding vampires that seem just as young as him, with still budding curiosity of the world and their own nature. It's morbid to compare hunting techniques - but they agree that unconscious victims attract less attention than dead ones, that animal blood is not as good as human, that they've tried to understand the limits of their own strength.

He only leaves when it's close to sunrise to the small home Jongdae has bought for them near the edge of the city, out of the way. Zitao likes it for the view of the fields out back - reminding him of Luhan and Minseok's own shack. Jongdae is already curled up on his side in the back room with no windows when Zitao finds him.

Zitao lies down beside him, fingers pressing against Jongdae's cheek, 'Chenchen.'

Drowsy, Jongdae opens his eyes and looks up, seeming a little lost until his hand reaches out to cup the side of Zitao's neck. 'You smell,' he murmurs.

He's about to laugh at Jongdae but gasps instead when Jongdae's fingers tighten, nails digging into his throat. 'Smell like others.'

'Chenchen,' says Zitao, pressing closer, hoping to ease the pressure. 'I met others in town today. Like us. Taemin and Jongin. They're young.'

Jongdae tries to blink the sleepiness away and slowly, his hand retreats to lie between them. 'Sorry,' he mumbles. 'Used to you smelling like me.'

Zitao feels the embarrassment make his tongue trip in his mouth as he tries to figure out a reply. Something that isn't about the sudden prickle of heat under Zitao's skin at the words, making his stomach tighten, his fingers twitch to touch. Instead, he coughs, 'I want you to meet them too.'

'Okay,' he agrees, before closing his eyes again. 'If you want.'

The back room is spacious, but Zitao sleeps a little closer than necessary to Jongdae that day.

-

If Jongdae was like a younger child to Minseok and Luhan as they taught him things, he becomes an old man with Zitao and the other two. He teases and indulges - seemingly liking the company but not wanting to participate in the displays - and Zitao doesn't mind. It feels better to spend time with Jongin and Taemin with Jongdae knowing where he is rather than make this a secret.

Jongdae sticks around if only to hear the language first hand and try it out for himself when he teases them all. He becomes fluent like that, and Zitao practices with Jongin, while Taemin devises new ways to entertain them. Whether that means impromptu races through the fields, testing the limits of their sleepiness against the sunrise all huddled together in the dark, or simply timing their hunts.

They spend a few years like this - hunting through the crowded city streets, with Zitao switching between sleeping in the cellar next to Jongin and Taemin and curling up in the back room with Jongdae.

He learns early on that Jongin and Taemin are like Minseok and Luhan. They kiss and touch in front of Zitao, but nothing more than that. It relieves Zitao - he doesn't think he wants to see. At least, not with other people. If only to avoid the idea when he's next to Jongdae.

But they're free with him. Easy and gentle. Taemin will embrace him around the waist and Jongin will tangle their legs together. They'll whisper to each other and laugh, mouths sometimes accidentally brushing against Zitao's ear or shoulder. Nevermind the fact that they're vampires who can hear just fine - the closeness is something they savour and want to share, and Zitao isn't against it.

He likes it. Finds comfort in touching Jongin and Taemin back - fingers sliding over their arms and toes skimming along a calf, nose bumping against a cheek, grins hidden against shoulders. Jongdae has only ever held hands or cupped his throat, sometimes lazily rubbing circles against the skin until Zitao shivers and moves away. It's nothing as close and pressed and intimate as this.

This way, Zitao finds himself covered in their scent more often than not, and sometimes he catches Jongdae's nose wrinkling in distaste before his expression goes smooth again, pretending he's unaffected. The gesture always warms Zitao inside, but he knows better than to question why. Just accepts the feeling as it is and imagines every relationship is like this.

It's not, of course. Jongin admits one night, 'Taeminnie is both my master and sire.'

Zitao is curled up in the fields of some farmer, fingers flicking at the long stalks of grain growing around him, while Jongin sprawls out beside him. Taemin is out hunting back in the city, so they're alone, hidden away. 'You guys are like thirty years apart,' says Zitao, surprised. 'He made you that young?'

Jongin nods. 'Yeah. Taeminnie wanted to travel a different direction than his sire, so his sire let him and told him to come back soon. Taeminnie liked travelling so much he didn't go back. Instead, he made friends with me and a year later, turned me to join him.'

'That... sounds like him,' says Zitao with a laugh. 'And fifty years later, you're here.'

'I'm glad.' Jongin turns towards Zitao. 'You could stay here too. You're fun.'

'I'm here until Chenchen decides to leave.'

His eyebrows draw together, seemingly confused. 'Who is Chen? To you? Is he your master?'

Zitao shifts. 'He's...' Looking over, he asks, 'what is the difference between a master and a sire, anyway?'

Jongin purses his mouth. 'Sire is who made you, master is who you want to follow. That's why Taeminnie is both. He could be your master too.'

Immediately, Zitao waves that idea out of the air with a snort. 'No.' Jongin kicks him with a huff, but Zitao only laughs, unapologetic. 'I am my _own_ master.' Beside him, Jongin rolls his eyes and Zitao nudges him. 'Isn't that better? Who wants to follow someone else?'

'It's just nice,' says Jongin, a little defensive. 'Nice to have someone to... take care of you.'

'Is that what Taeminnie does?'

'Yeah.'

Zitao nods to himself. 'That does sound nice.'

-

They leave after a decade.

Jongdae mentions he wants to leave for a new city, explore this country a little more, then looks at Zitao, 'do you want to stay?'

Zitao balks in surprise. 'Stay? What do you mean by that?'

He's casual about it, leaning back on his hands as he sits in their living room, a map he bought from the market spread out on their low table. 'You like them - Jonginnie and Taeminnie.'

'Yeah, but that doesn't mean...' Zitao trails off, not knowing what he wants to say, wants to admit.

'I won't hold it against you,' says Jongdae. 'After all, I'm not your master.' He quirks a smile, seemingly thoughtful. 'I'm Chenchen.'

'You're the one who says your name is Chen to other people,' defends Zitao, feeling embarrassed, and Jongdae laughs.

'It's fine.' He gestures to the map on the table. 'Anyway - now that we have a hang on this language, I want to see other places. I'm ready to leave, but you don't have to go with me.'

Zitao squirms, something tight in his stomach, like a feeling of urgency. 'Do you want me to come with you?' Jongdae seems surprised at the question. He hesitates, and Zitao continues, 'I mean - I do like them, Jonginnie, and Taeminnie, but, I don't want to stay and have Taeminnie as my master. I - I don't want a master, but if I come with you, does - does that mean you’re my master - should I go alone instead - '

'It doesn't, Tao,' says Jongdae, his expression going soft in understanding. 'We can keep being just sire and childe. Just... Just tell me before you leave.'

It's the way he says the last part that has Zitao's throat tighten, but he doesn't think he can say what he's known for awhile now. At least not yet. 'I'll go with you.'

Jongdae nods. As they look at the map together, Zitao catches the softest smile on Jongdae's face and he knows he's made the right choice.

-

**2015**

It takes a few months before they meet other vampires. Afterwards, Jongdae mentions he's surprised that it takes them this long.

'Maybe they scouted us out first,' he remarks.

Whatever the reason, they finally meet in the late evening outside of Jongdae and Zitao's apartment. The two sit on the curb, watching with glinting eyes as Zitao pushes open the glass door of the building and steps onto the sidewalk. He nods to them - simply out of courtesy - and waits for Jongdae to come down as well.

Jongdae freezes at Zitao's side when he sees them, and Zitao is immediately a step in front of Jongdae, an instinctual protectiveness draping over his shoulders.

'Welcome to Seoul,' says one as he stands up. He's Jongdae's height with honey-coloured hair and pretty outlined eyes.

'Is this your territory?' asks Zitao, trying to take stock of him.

The other one stands too - tall as Zitao, dark-haired and wide-eyed with prominent ears. 'We're the only bloodsuckers in this city.' He announces it like he's proud of it.

'Did you chase the others away?' asks Jongdae.

'Of course not,' scoffs the short one. 'My name is Baekhyun, this is my partner, Chanyeol.'

'Tao,' says Zitao, 'and Chen.'

'Nice to meet you,' replies Baekhyun. 'There's no need for us to not to be civil. This city's big enough for four.'

'Where do you live?' asks Jongdae. 'Since you know where we do.'

'We just followed a scent from the other night,' says Baekhyun.

'I'm sure,' replies Jongdae shortly, and Zitao shifts on his feet, tries to angle himself between the other two and Jongdae.

'We live a few neighborhoods down,' says Chanyeol. He list off the address and explains how to get there, ending it with a smile and, 'it's apartment number 6014.'

'We'll see you soon?' asks Baekhyun.

'We'll stop by for tea,' replies Jongdae coolly. 'We'll be on our way now.'

They walk at a human pace - slow and unhurried - until they're a good five blocks down. When Zitao looks over his shoulder, the two vampires are gone already. 'They're strange.'

'I don't like them,' says Jongdae.

'You don't like anyone, Chenchen,' snorts Zitao. He reaches out and tangles their fingers together. 'They can't hurt you anyway. I'm here.'

'Lucky me,' murmurs Jongdae, and Zitao elbows his ribs, making him yelp.

'Yes,' he declares, ignoring Jongdae's scowl, and feels like smiling when Jongdae holds his hand just a little tighter.

-

**1856**

They reunite that year after being apart for half a decade.

At first, Zitao would go alone for a week and come back home to Jongdae. He went up to a month, then a few months. After Luhan and Minseok, Zitao was gone for a year, and found Jongdae where he left him - singing folk songs to himself as he cleaned clothes in the middle of the night. Something completely anachronous to Jongdae's image of coolness that Zitao had burst out laughing when he saw, and got a face full of wet clothes in his face.

Zitao always leaves with a declaration of, 'I want to see this' or 'I want to travel there', and Jongdae hunts with him the night before, making sure he's fully fed, before he's off. He doesn't mention leaving forever, and Jongdae never mentions that it's strange for a vampire who claims to be his own master to constantly return back to someone else.

Jongdae is not his master - simply his sire, at least that's what Zitao repeats to himself on the eve of the night he comes back to Jongdae each time. Jongdae doesn't blink an eye every time - only questions on what he saw, whom he met. 'Was it nice?' he murmurs afterwards. 'Hm, maybe I should go there too.'

This time it is five years. Zitao is greedy in his travels - takes everything in. Everything he's missed. By spending a few decades overseas, when he returns back to where they began, everything has changed. Jongdae digs his roots deep when he wants, but Zitao flits and follows his whims. He sees technology and plucks at it with money that Jongdae makes appear and loads him with. He visits temples and finds a love for fighting again - the formality of it, the tradition, the concentration.

He ends up in Shanghai near the five year mark when something strange happens.

It's a hunt like any other. The moon is only half-full and the streets are dimly lit and mostly empty, nothing is out of place. Zitao can smell a human walking down the empty street just a few metres ahead of him and goes forward, quiet, intent. The human is like any other as well - he should be. He smells of sweat and blood and dust and, wonderfully, flowers.

Zitao turns onto the street, seeing the silhouette ahead of him, and they walk metres apart for a few seconds when the human's shoulders scrunch up. He stops in his tracks, and Zitao knows this is when he needs to move fast and quick and knock him out for a peaceful, long drink.

Except the human speaks: 'is there a nightwalker behind me?'

Zitao freezes.

The human slowly turns around, but Zitao is hidden by shadow. Still, the human continues, 'if not, I'll be on my way. If so, I'd rather you not kill me, nor knock me out. You can drink for free.'

The surprise wears off and Zitao is curious now. He slides out of the shadow of the buildings and walks towards the human deliberately slowly, eyes wide and taking in the appearance of the other. The human is dressed like any other middle-class citizen, with soft brown hair and plush mouth, sleepy eyes and carrying a satchel.

'How did you know I was there?'

The human smiles and shrugs, 'it's a good night to hunt. My name is Yixing.'

'Tao,' he offers in reply.

'Are you new?'

'Yes.'

Yixing nods to himself. 'The other nightwalkers usually make it a game to surprise me.'

'There's others here?' Zitao hadn't smelled them.

'For now, just one.' Yixing gestures behind him. 'Maybe he'll visit tonight, so I should hurry home. Do you have a place to stay, Tao?'

'Not yet,' he replies.

'Would you like to come with me?'

Zitao hesitates, looks at Yixing once more, and nods.

-

Yixing makes tea for three, but the third never comes. Zitao drinks it out of courtesy, liking the taste but finding no fulfillment out of it. Not the way blood sated him. Yixing laughs at him for his slow slips, but is otherwise relaxed as he sits. His home smells strange - of flowers, plants, and antiseptic.

'I'm a doctor,' explains Yixing. 'I fix people up for free.'

Zitao knows there's no such thing as free. 'Then how do you... own a house?' He looks around, finding small pots of herbs growing in dark soil, a cracked shiny pot, piles of cushions and a plush cot. There are cabinets and numerous satchels around as well, and an assortment of jars filled with powder. It's full - full of things, too full to be free of cost.

'I have money saved up,' says Yixing. 'And I get donations from my missing friend.'

It's not unheard of vampires to befriend humans. Zitao tries not to get attached to one yet. He's too young and if he creates a childe now, it'll be a mess and... and there is Jongdae. Something about having Jongdae in his life means that if he got attached to a human, he would want Jongdae to know. Want him to understand. Some innate need for approval that Zitao pretends he doesn't have.

'How'd you two meet?' he asks, curious.

Yixing drums his fingers on the table in thought then shrugs. 'The shortest explanation is that I'm his childe that turned back human.'

Zitao stares. 'Turned... back...?'

He nods and smiles at Zitao. 'I don't look it but I'm very, very old.' Yixing shows off his hands - they're pale, with long fingers and fresh callouses. 'I should be all wrinkled by now.'

Yixing doesn't seem to be lying - no sweat seeping out of his skin, and his heart rate remaining steady, so Zitao humours him. 'Why would you go _back_ to being human?'

The man simply shrugs. 'After a while, I... got tired of eternity. I spent so much time learning how to help and heal people, but... it didn't take long to figure out that I can't do that in the middle of the night. So I went back to being human.'

It makes sense, but Zitao doesn't understand. 'You can't go back. We're dead. We're alive but - we're dead.'

'Every process has a reversal,' says Yixing. 'Your brain still works, your internal organs - even if you're not using them - are still preserved, your nails and hair grow if you feed often enough.'

'So you're saying if I just lie down and dream of being human, I'll wake up alive?' says Zitao, brows furrowed.

'Did that make you a nightwalker?'

Zitao shifts. 'No.'

'A blood transfusion and a force of will did that to you - you died for a week and woke up a nightwalker.' Yixing hums in thought. 'For a reversal, you just need... a spiritual transfusion and force of will for seven days.' He counts them off his fingers. 'Some belief practices will burn you while reciting purification rites for those seven days until you walk out human. Some will embalm and entomb you surrounded by icons. Some will bury you in hallowed ground. I chose burial.'

'You gave up forever,' says Zitao quietly, 'to heal people that will only die eventually.'

Yixing smiles. 'Eternity isn't for everyone. And people have given it up for less.'

'Fallen in love with humans, you mean.' Zitao shakes his head. 'They could just transform their human.'

'You're young, aren't you?' laughs Yixing. 'Eventually, even nightwalkers will die. Some of us want to die like this - as we should have.'

'What about your friend?' asks Zitao, feeling disconcerted. 'Don't you want to live with him forever? If you're old, don't you have a childe?'

'I've been master to a few, but that was a long time ago and they're long gone now.' Yixing tips his head to the side, trying to remember. 'And one childe. Now, I just have a sire - my friend.'

'Where is he?' Two against one might convince Yixing that mortality, even at his age, was ridiculous. He was giving up. It didn't make _sense._

'He's been gone for a week,' says Yixing quietly, looking to the side, where the window sill was open to let in the breeze, as if expecting him to be there. 'He said something about not having seen the sun in a millenia.'

-

Zitao spends a few months in Shanghai, occasionally stopping by at Yixing's place, learning things about herbs and medicinal properties that he's not sure he'll remember, but Yixing's voice is gentle and soothing to listen to for the time being. He never meets Yixing's friend, a man named Yifan, who comes around during the daytime when Zitao is asleep. Maybe it's better that way - seeing immortality stripped away for - for what? The idea still disconcerts him, and eventually he can't stand it. He goes home.

Qingdao has changed. Grown. Swallowed up his village from decades ago and transformed it into a port city. Trade ships anchor at the docks hastily built to accommodate them, merchants crowd together on flattened down roads to sell their wares, their vegetables, their catch of the day.

During the night, Zitao catches Jongdae's scent and follows it, moving through the muted city to find himself before a small home settled into brickwork. It's near the edge of the city for now, but Zitao has a feeling it will be enveloped if the ports continue to be this busy. The city will bubble and swallow the fields into homes and markets.

The smell of the sea is something nostalgic, but Zitao doesn't remember the taste of the food anymore, the sting of salt spray against his cheeks, the burn of rope and wind cutting along his skin. Immune to all of it, Zitao only surrounds himself the scent and vision, closes his eyes and imagines his village, then opens them to  see this - a _city_.

To think he would have died before seeing this. Zitao feels the uneasiness concerning Yixing's mortality drift away, replaced with thankfulness. He's a nightwalker, he's alive, he's going to live forever. Forever.

Standing there for so long, it's Jongdae who opens the door to the cottage and looks out into the dark to spot Zitao. 'You're back.'

He looks completely unchanged except for the clothes. Short in stature, but with dark unlit eyes and dark hair, mouth imprinted with curls at the corners that shift from condescending to teasing in just a twitch. Zitao takes him in - Jongdae, immortal, forever.

'Chenchen,' he says, and walks into their home.

-

'You came in time,' says Jongdae the next night, waking up after sunset and stretching his arms above the air as he lays sprawled on his cot in the dark back room. Zitao is sitting up, already awake for half an hour, simply waiting for Jongdae to rise. It's a small indulgence for Zitao - to watch Jongdae caught up in his slumber, where his thick lashes fan out over his cheeks and he looks young and pretty, instead of cutting and mean the times he's awake.

'In time for what?' asks Zitao, reaching over to brush the hair out of Jongdae's eyes.

Jongdae tips his head to the side, eyes closing, and Zitao gets the hint. He slides his fingers through the dark hair, scratching lightly at a sweet spot behind his ear. These sort of touches - like hand-holding, drowsy presses of skin, the occasional hug - they're practiced at, but nothing more. Zitao wonders if there's room for more, then drives the thought away, feeling almost embarrassed.

'I don't remember the day,' says Jongdae, 'but I remember the year.'

'Of what?'

'When we met.'

Zitao's fingers pause and Jongdae opens his eyes. Suddenly flustered, Zitao manages a weak, 'you remembered' before falling back silent.

'It's been a century,' continues Jongdae, still watching Zitao. 'I bought this home under your name. It's yours. You own it.'

'Chenchen...' starts Zitao, completely caught off-guard. His fingers retreat, curl into themselves and fall limply in his lap.

'You can even kick me out of it, if you wanted. Legally.' Turning onto his side to face Zitao, Jongdae spares the other his stare and closes his eyes. 'My gift to you.'

'That's unfair,' says Zitao. 'I don't know what year you turned. I can't give anything back. Thank you isn't enough.'

Jongdae smiles softly to himself. 'I don't know what year I turned either. Too bad, Taozi.'

'It can be this year too,' offers Zitao. 'This year can be for us both.'

Laughing, Jongdae finally sits up, so they're both eye to eye, and this way Zitao couldn't look away if he tried. 'And what's my present?'

'What do you want?' he asks, throat tight in anticipation.

Humming, Jongdae tips his head to the side, eyes half-lidded in thought. 'What are you willing to give?'

Maybe it's the way Jongdae's lashes flick when he blinks, the purse of his lips when he speaks, the curve of his cheek when he turns. Maybe it's the fact that Jongdae remembered a year, has kept track of the years, and thought to give Zitao a home when he had lost his. Maybe it's simply the fact that Zitao has always known - for decades - about what it is that makes his skin prickle with heat, his stomach clench up with muted excitement.

He dips forward, eyes falling shut, and presses his mouth to the corner of Jongdae's - waiting.

In the next moment, Jongdae is turning his head, catching Zitao's bottom lip between his teeth. Zitao feels a push against his shoulders, finding himself leaning back on his hands, and Jongdae is crawling into his lap, cradling his neck between his small hands. The kiss stays slow, nipping, soft. Jongdae tugs at Zitao's bottom lip, and Zitao makes a noise, mouthing at Jongdae's top lip in return. Wanting to give as much as he received.

In hindsight - it's how a first kiss should be. Jongdae is careful with him - letting Zitao shiver and meet his mouth with each beat. After a moment, he pulls away, only to press his lips along Zitao's jawline, mouth over it with teeth catching along the skin, sucking right underneath until Zitao moans out a stuttered 'Chenchen'.

Jongdae mouths wetly down to Zitao's collarbone before pulling away and looking at him with dark eyes, heavy with want. The look has Zitao whining from the back of his throat, one hand unknowingly fisted in the linen of Jongdae's clothes.

'Is this a one time thing?' asks Jongdae, his voice low and rough. 'Answer me, Taozi.'

Zitao shakes his head, mouth dropped open as he watches Jongdae's lips move over each word. 'A-Again,' he manages. 'Everyday. I want - for a long time - but I've never - '

'I'll show you,' promises Jongdae as he leans forward, kissing Zitao now, a bit harder, tongue flicking at his lips. Zitao moans and opens up, falling backwards until he's sprawled on the cot and Jongdae's picking his clothes apart one by one.

-

**2015**

The world when standing seventy storeys high feels small enough to fit into his palm. Zitao closes his thumb and forefinger around blinking lights down below, imagines he can make them blow out. Leave the world a dark sea underneath, perfect for Zitao to swim through, taking his pick of the freshest blood.

He sits on the ledge of the skyscraper's rooftop, feet swinging through the cool air, as he watches the soft headlights of cars passing through the grid of streets below, sometimes the shadowed movements of humans walking along the curb, the flash of streetlights and the bright glow of signs above buildings - bars, restaurants, hotels, advertisements. This is different from every other era, thinks Zitao to himself. The night slowly comes to life here, where it was so soft and black and silent in decades before.

The passing of time is smudged in Zitao's memory. He keeps track of years in the periphery, noting a month, a date, some numbers, before slipping away in the eternal stream of his immortality where time is marked by bouts of hunger and desire. And, of course, Jongdae. Life before Jongdae, life after Jongdae, life when traveling away from him, and now - life traveling _with_ him.

'Well, they do actually live here,' says Jongdae as he sits on the ledge beside Zitao, peering out into the building across from them. When Zitao looks through the window of the apartment's living room, it's clear that the two figures moving around are Baekhyun and Chanyeol.

'Chenchen, you're so paranoid,' he laughs, watching idly as Chanyeol obliviously draws the curtains shut, not noticing the voyeurs up above.

'I'm just checking if they're playing us,' replies Jongdae. 'Besides, I like this view.'

'Me too,' says Zitao softly, looking around once more, before his eyes slide to Jongdae, lingering over his profile. 'Chenchen...'

Jongdae looks over. 'Yeah?'

'You're old now, right?'

He snorts, eyebrows raised. 'You know this.'

'Do you ever...' Zitao draws his knees to his chest, propping his chin on top. 'Do you ever think of dying?'

'Everything dies, Taozi,' says Jongdae. 'We can be killed - by humans or each other. We can kill ourselves - with the sun. If the world ends, we'll probably go too.'

'That's not what I mean.' The words are stuck, stiff, a little worried and a little scared. 'Do you ever want to become human... and die mortal?'

To his credit, Jongdae doesn't scoff at him. He just hums, thoughtful, and then shrugs. 'I'm not tired of immortality yet.'

'If you do become human, can you... become vampire again?'

'Usually, when one of us becomes human, they don't _want_ to become immortal again, so no one's done it,' says Jongdae. 'Becoming human is a painful process. You know how much it hurt when I bit you?'

It's been almost three hundred years, but still a shadow of pain lingers in the back of Zitao's senses when he recalls it. The most agonizing seven day process - where his body died and slowly came back to life, bit by bit, in agonizingly slow moments, while Jongdae dripped blood onto his tongue for him to swallow.

'Yeah,' he says softly.

'It's easy to die,' says Jongdae. 'It's hard to live, especially to live again. For seven days, it's supposed to be tenfold more painful. The worst week of anyone's life. That's why our kind rarely do it - but...'

'But...?' prompts Zitao.

'But they seem happy with it,' says Jongdae, looking down at the streets below. 'From the few I've met - they've always been happy.'

Zitao shifts, feeling that familiar disconcertion that always lingers around the subject. 'If you become human, I...'

Jongdae shakes his head. 'I won't.' He looks at Zitao. 'If you become human, I will too.'

He starts in surprise. 'Chenchen.'

'Especially if it's burial.' He says it all like it's fact, that Zitao should have known this. 'Some vampires suffocate under the dirt - so in pain and suddenly human that they forget they need to breathe and dig themselves out. Which means if you go, I go, so I can get us out.'

Staring at him, Zitao's throat feels tight, and his fingers twitch. He doesn't resist - reaching out beside him to curl his arm around Jongdae's shoulders and drag him close. Now, Jongdae does laugh - 'what is it?' - and bonelessly slumps against Zitao's chest once Zitao has both arms around him, face buried into his shoulder.

'Zitao,' murmurs Jongdae.

'I love you,' says Zitao - unashamedly emotional, wanting to keep him close.

'Just cause I said I'd be human with you?' teases Jongdae, voice soft. 'You're too easy.'

'Master,' he whines.

'I know, I know,' he says, a hand coming up to cup Zitao's neck, thumb tracing soft patterns over the skin. 'I love you too.'

-

**1956**

For fifty years, Zitao does not live with Jongdae.

It is the longest he has ever been from Jongdae - but Zitao justifies it easily. His master is his own self, Jongdae was just his sire and a traveling partner for a hundred and some years. He didn't need Jongdae.

Maybe it's a sort of teenage rebellion in vampire years. Zitao doesn't know what brings it on - he says he'll be gone for a while, and Jongdae simply accepts the statement. While Zitao gives a half-hearted outline of places he will travel, Jongdae plots out his own course, in case Zitao would like to find him in a few years. If Jongdae notices the lack of attention, he doesn't comment on it. Just puts the map away and makes sure Zitao is fed before he's gone.

He doesn't particularly _mean_ to be gone for fifty years. A part of him wanted to return after twenty, but he got caught up in the aftermath of a war he had tried his damnedest to avoid. He wonders about Jongin and Taemin living on that small island that had been involved in the wreck of this battle and visits them, tries to find them.

Eventually, following rumours, Zitao finds them atop some mountain, living a sort of hermit life out of Taemin's whim. Jongin likes the freedom, not worrying about being seen as he truly is, and because Jongin is pleased, Taemin relaxes as well. They take to Zitao like the old friends they are, and Zitao stays there for a while.

'Where is Chen?' asks Jongin one day.

Zitao shrugs. 'Somewhere.'

'Shouldn't you be with your master?' asks Taemin, watching curiously. 'It's been decades.'

'He's not my master,' says Zitao, feeling a little defensive.

'Huh, I always thought he was,' says Taemin, shrugging, before he grins. 'Let's see if you've gotten stronger in the past years then.'

Zitao is gone after spending a decade with them. He drifts, feeling curiously lost, and crosses the sea again to some country him and Jongdae skirted around but never spent any time in. Eventually, he picks up the language - even if he finds himself mispronouncing words - and spends times in the various cities.

He runs into another one of their kind there - short, with a plush mouth and dark hair. His name turns out to be Kyungsoo, and he reminds Zitao a little bit of Jongdae in his stiff crassness and how quickly he gets annoyed. It's almost amusing - as long as the irritation isn't directed at Zitao - and Kyungsoo puts up with Zitao's hesitant grasp on the language and miming before nodding and talking back, teaching him without admitting to it.

When the next war hits the continent next over, Zitao stays with Kyungsoo. Even war has changed with each era, and Zitao's mastery of wushu doesn't mean anything when considering these humans fight with trenches and guns now.

Kyungsoo is kind enough not to question why Zitao sticks around for so long. They go feeding together on some nights, but mostly Zitao talks at Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo corrects his grammar and replies in hums and nods, scowls and scoffs. Sometimes, Kyungsoo will say something first - he talks slowly, the words coming out thick and viscous, as if he thought about this over and over before actually speaking.

'I used to have a childe,' he says. 'Annoying, never shut up, but followed me everywhere.'

Zitao doesn't interrupt; he walks beside Kyungsoo as they trawl through the night.

'Then I made a mistake of making another childe.' He looks up into the night sky. 'They're both gone.'

Quietly, he asks, 'were you ever a master?'

Kyungsoo nods, 'to both. Then one became the master of the other, and they both left.'

Something unsaid lingers between the two. Zitao has a guess as to what it is - that Kyungsoo, alone and abandoned, might be interested in being a master again. That, while abrasive on some nights, he has let Zitao stay this long, and maybe... maybe Zitao, who has kept him company for decades, would like to stay for longer. Forever.

It's an offer that Zitao thinks on. He imagines Yixing, who smiled when speaking of his own master. Luhan, too, whose eyes grew brighter just at the thought of Minseok. Lastly, Jongin and his soft-voiced, 'it's nice', as he curled up around Taemin, unwilling to let go. Maybe it'd be okay for Zitao to give a part of himself up for a piece of that - a peaceful sort of comfort of having someone to always come home to.

It's a night on the forty-eighth year of being away from Jongdae that Zitao comes back to Kyungsoo's apartment and thinks, 'this isn't home,' and realizes that the person he's looking for isn't Kyungsoo at all.

-

It takes two years for Zitao to find home. He can't remember the outline Jongdae had told him so he goes to their old, familiar haunts. He tries to listen to rumours in the smaller towns and villages, and wanders around the larger, grown cities. It's a desperate sort of search, and Zitao almost feels tempted to leave behind a trail of bodies for Jongdae to follow and chastise him for. Except Jongdae has taught him to be better, smarter.

It's at the end of the two years that Zitao ends up in Qingdao, on some vague hope.

Throat tight, Zitao walks fast through the city that has grown more and more - spread forth, enveloping the farmlands he remembered from decades before. The ships are different and port more crowded with freight and people and markets. Zitao only takes these details in with half a mind, wanting to find his home - _their_ home - as soon as possible.

It's not at the edge of the city anymore, but rather in the middle, with rows of buildings and streets all around it. Zitao doesn't know what he expects when he crosses the front and opens the door, surprised that it's unlocked.

In the middle of the night, in the living room, across a low table, Jongdae is dressed in loose silk and humming to himself as he writes something down on a piece of paper.

Zitao feels like crying.

Clearly, the entrance is a complete surprise. Jongdae startles away from the table, looking up at the front of the room with wide eyes as he takes in the new scent and presence that sped into the house too fast for his muted, weak senses to detect. 'Fuck - !' He pauses and rakes his eyes up and down Zitao's form. 'Tao?'

'Chenchen,' says Zitao, eyes burning at the sight. 'I'm home.'

'Close the door,' says Jongdae, brows drawing together. 'And come here. Where the hell have you been? It's been - '

'Fifty years, I know,' interrupts Zitao. 'I'm sorry, I got lost, then I couldn't find you, but, but you were here.'

'I've been waiting for you,' says Jongdae, standing up, and holding out a hand. 'Make it up to me.'

In only a second, Zitao cupping Jongdae's jaw and kissing him, feeling like he's going to drown in familiarity and nostalgia at the same time. He opens up without second thought, lets Jongdae angle them so he can lick into Zitao's mouth, taste him again. Zitao shivers and tries to press himself closer, knowing this is exactly where he should be. Not with Jongin and Taemin, nor Kyungsoo for all those years.

'I'm sorry,' he says, pulling away, forehead pressed against Jongdae's. 'I'm sorry.'

'Hey, hey,' murmurs Jongdae, pressing soft touches to his jawline, his cheek. 'You came back.'

Zitao shakes his head, feeling emotion rush up through him so hard that he's trembling, and - before he knows it - he's crying, red tears spilling down his cheeks in thick rivulets, leaving his skin stained pink. 'Chenchen, I'm sorry.'

'Taozi,' Jongdae says, voice low and soft, as he wipes the tears away. 'As long as you're okay, everything else will be fine too.'

It's right then that Zitao realizes he should never have left. That he's always been home. 'I love you,' he sobs out. 'I want you to be my master.'

Jongdae freezes, staring up at Zitao, his fingers stilling over Zitao's face. 'Taozi...'

'I always knew,' he admits, wiping at his own face, feeling childish and vulnerable, 'you've always been here. You've always been my master. Please, Chenchen.'

'I've never been a master,' says Jongdae slowly. 'I might not be like the other ones you've met.'

Zitao nods, sniffling, and looking at him. Trying to show Jongdae that he wants it no matter what circumstance is give to him.

'You'll be my only one,' says Jongdae. 'And you can have no one but me. Forever.'

'Yes,' says Zitao. 'Forever.'

-

**2015**

He's hunting when they take him.

Zitao is always too trusting, too easy to dismiss concerns. He assumes they're joining him for his feeding time among the streets in Seoul, but instead, he is the prey. Baekhyun and Chanyeol - they are stronger than Zitao is. It's cause they're older, probably closer to Jongdae's age - and their grips are tight, holds are strong. Zitao lashes out - instinctual and mean - but it's no use.

'Quiet down,' says Baekhyun. 'The less you move, the less this hurts.'

Chanyeol hums in agreement, holding hard onto Zitao's wrists, would bruise if Zitao had enough blood under his skin for that.

'Get off me, get the fuck off me,' snarls Zitao, before his brain swings to Jongdae, and alarm fills him, 'don't fucking touch me, don't you dare touch my master.'

'See, I told you the short one was master,' says Chanyeol.

Baekhyun groans. 'What the fuck - well, we already have this one.'

'I don't want to kill Tao,' says Chanyeol, pout in his voice. Zitao struggles and spits all the while, but combined, Baekhyun and Chanyeol must have at least five hundred years of power over him.

'We keep him then. We use Tao to lure the master in.'

-

Zitao sits half-curled in their living room, his wrists tied with chains that have been blessed in a church, and his ankles bound by rope wrapped in purification mantra from the temple. Chanyeol is the one with the Buddhist roots - 'something my, like, great-grandfather was into.' - and Baekhyun is affectionate towards Christianity. Either way - they both know to handle purified objects without being caught in it themselves, and Zitao feels sick when he realizes it's from experience.

'How many else have you kidnapped?' he spits out while Chanyeol plays video games on the couch and Baekhyun lounges on the chair, idly looking out the window.

'Just two, you're the magical, lucky third, aren't you happy?' asks Baekhyun, tone bored. 'Since you were stronger, we thought you were the master helping the little one out...' He heaves a sigh. 'I guess it's not a complete loss. After this, if you want to have me as your master, I'll accept. You're healthy and strong and I'm stronger than your current master.'

'What will you do with him?'

'A blood transfusion.'

Zitao stares. 'What?'

Chanyeol's character dies on screen and he drops the controller, looking over at Zitao on the floor. 'It's so we can get stronger. We're pretty young, you know. But we're strong - all because of Baekhyunnie's planning.'

'You going to confess all our secrets to our prisoner, Chanyeollie?' says Baekhyun. Chanyeol blinks and shuts his mouth, shaking his head, seeming apologetic, and resumes his game, while Baekhyun idly watches in silence. Zitao looks between them and wonders.

-

They let him sleep in the darkened bedroom on the floor while they curl up together on the bed. Zitao dozes fitfully - stress making his system not cooperate to knock him out into a slumber instantly as it usually does. He waits and thinks about where he is, what he's done, what Jongdae is doing. If Jongdae comes in, trying to rescue him by killing the other two off, then he'd die first. Jongdae is weak but stubborn, and Baekhyun wanted him tied up and submissive the way Zitao was. He wouldn't have the patience to convince Jongdae to calm down.

Especially for something like a blood transfusion.

It's his responsibility to protect Jongdae from other vampires. Jongdae is small and weak, as much as he hates to admit it. He trains his mind and sharpens his words to get to people who could otherwise kill him, because it's the nearest thing to protection he has, and while it works... sometimes, someday, it won't be enough, and Zitao will step in. Keep his master safe.

That's why it wasn't supposed to be this way. Zitao wasn't supposed to be the _bait_ to get Jongdae killed.

-

Two days later, Baekhyun goes out feeding alone, getting impatient that Jongdae still hasn't shown up. Zitao is left with Chanyeol. He is again dropped in the living room, his back pressed against the foot of the couch, and head tilted to lean against the arm. Chanyeol sits beside him on the couch with a guitar and strums a few chords while humming something vaguely familiar.

'Hey, Chanyeol,' starts Zitao softly, 'what are you playing? You're good at it.'

Chanyeol stops and straightens, before looking at Zitao with wide eyes. 'You like it?'

Zitao thinks of what Jongdae would say before pushing his mouth up in a flat, wide smile. 'Yes, I do.'

-

Baekhyun at least has a modicum of cunning, not as much as Jongdae, nor maybe even Kyungsoo - but enough that Zitao doesn't think he could play him. Chanyeol is softer, gentler - is pleased by compliments and likes to talk about himself. Where Baekhyun might snap at Chanyeol, Zitao smiles and soothes and validates.

In all honesty, Zitao doesn't care. He wants to kill Chanyeol. He wants to rip Chanyeol's throat out and paint himself red with his blood and kiss Jongdae so Jongdae can taste what Zitao will do for him, have irrefutable proof that Zitao loves him this much, so much.

But Jongdae can't come here without dying, so Zitao has to save himself. And that means using what Jongdae is good at - words. Manipulation. Telling Chanyeol he's so, so good at what he does so Chanyeol will look at him all bright-eyed, 'you're so nice, Tao, even if your Korean isn't that good.'

-

On the fourth day, Zitao understands.

'Baekhyun was the first childe of our sire, and I was the second,' says Chanyeol. 'And we loved our sire so much, he was our master and he raised us for the first few decades, until Baekhyun wanted to become my master.'

Zitao looks at his own bound wrists. 'Cause he loves you, right?'

'Yes,' says Chanyeol softly, dreamily. 'I know he doesn't seem like it - but Baekhyun is actually really gentle. When he became my master and bit me, I got stronger... and that's when we knew.'

He sits up straight, suddenly animated, as Zitao stays sitting on the floor, wondering when Baekhyun would be back from his hunt. 'If you are bitten by someone older, you can grow more powerful, because their power is added to yours And - and I want to be strong. I want to live forever.' Chanyeol spreads out his hands. 'Because we're strong, this whole city is _ours_. No one will be able to kill us. That's real immortality.'

Zitao tilts his head to the side and feels himself smile softly when he thinks of Yixing. 'You're young, aren't you?'

Chanyeol stares at him. 'Well, yeah, that's the point. So that's why we need to start now and get all the masters we can.'

Drawing his knees to his chest, Zitao props his chin on top, feeling himself sink back into memories from years before. 'Everything dies.'

'But not us,' says Chanyeol, adamant. 'And I like you, Tao. You can join us. We can be a covenant - that's what Baekhyun calls it. After we lost touch with our sire, I think Baekhyun has always wanted a third.'

Maybe that was supposed to be Jongdae. If Baekhyun's mounting anxiety at his absence was any indication, Baekhyun wanted him here, soon.

Zitao wonders if he should tell Baekhyun. 'When Chenchen comes, he'll be coming to kill you.'

-

**1995**

'I don't know when I died,' says Jongdae softly, 'but I was born here.'

Daejeon is not as big as the massively populated cities they have gone through in China, but it's still sizeable enough for them to hide for a long time there. Zitao is holding Jongdae's hand when Jongdae says this and squeezes his fingers in surprise. 'You brought me to your home?'

'You're mine now,' replies Jongdae. 'That means everything that is mine is now yours too, even this.'

-

Daejeon is a city where Jongdae takes up singing for the first time in years. 'It's cause I feel happy,' he says, grinning wide. 'I want to show off to you.'

It feels dreamlike to have this Jongdae - so comfortable among these streets that he had only visited when they traveled separately over the years. Zitao is overwhelmed, suddenly, by Jongdae - but it is an attention that has been a long time coming. He always knew about Jongdae's intensity towards his hobbies, his work. His attention to detail when visiting a new place and keeping their money and knowing what properties to buy when and where. The skill has them comfortably wealthy by now.

Maybe Zitao just isn't prepared for the intensity to be directed on him. Jongdae is comfortable with touch, with kissing, with Zitao nuzzling up to him close and fucking their way through each room of their apartment, bloodstained and satisfied. He teases still, and Zitao feels like he understands it for the first time. The way Jongdae always watched him, the way everything he said had affection behind it.

'I waited a long time,' says Jongdae quietly, brushing his fingers through Zitao's hair. 'A long time before I turned you.'

Zitao starts in surprise, looking down at Jongdae as they lay curled up in bed. 'I thought I was just a soldier you found.'

Jongdae shakes his head. 'I knew you. I saw you first in the battle against the Zunghars along that region. You were just some farmboy, but you were skilled enough to be promoted to the head of your own small squad.' His eyes go half-lidded in remembrance. 'Then I followed you to the second campaign, and you - you had _improved_. You tried so hard to protect your squad, even if you didn't know who they were, and finally, you were one of the last soldiers in the entire battle to taken down by arrows. You stayed alive into the night.'

He can't stop staring at Jongdae. 'You needed a young and strong bodyguard.'

Nodding, Jongdae says, 'you were stronger than me the moment you were born. I wondered if you'd stay.'

'That's why you bullied me all those years,' replies Zitao, a little scathing.

To his credit, Jongdae agrees. 'I would have let you go - there's no point in keeping someone who doesn't want to stay. I couldn't help it - I wanted you to stay so badly.'

'You're a bad person, Chenchen.'

'I always will be,' replies Jongdae, looking at him. 'You don't have to stay with someone like me.'

'You're being a bastard,' says Zitao, rolling his eyes. 'You think I didn't figure out you were an insecure weakling? I stayed anyway.'

'Insecure weakling - ' starts Jongdae, eyes wide. 'I could _kill_ you.'

'Too small,' hums Zitao, curling his arms around Jongdae's waist, trying to pin the other down with his weight. 'Love me too much.'

'Get off me - !' Underneath, Jongdae squirms, before eventually giving up and going bonelessly flat against the bed, staring up at Zitao. 'Taozi...'

'I bet you waited a long time for me to call you master, didn't you?'

Jongdae closes his eyes, opens them after a moment: 'Two hundred and thirty-nine years.' It doesn't take much for Zitao to realize he means since the the year Zitao was turned.

Zitao can feel the weight of Jongdae's gaze on him and swallows hard. 'I wish you could just say I love you instead.'

'Where's the fun in that?' says Jongdae with a grin, and Zitao smothers his embarrassment by kissing him.

-

**2015**

'We'll keep him alive for a week,' announces Baekhyun on the sixth day. 'After tomorrow, there's no use for him.'

'He could join us?' asks Chanyeol hopefully. 'He's so nice. I think he likes me.'

'He doesn't like me,' says Baekhyun, petulant.

'You just need to talk to him for a bit, he'll probably like you too.'

Zitao has slowly scooched his way from living room to hallway, eavesdropping on the conversation. He knows he has to buy time for himself now, so with another heave, he gets back to the living room and hopes they were caught up enough in the words that they didn't hear him move.

Even if they did, what could Zitao do except smile and play nice and let them eventually undo the bindings on him. Then, _then_ , Zitao could sink his teeth into their throats and coat this entire apartment in a spray of blood. Jongdae could do this - turn people's words and heads to suit his needs, and Zitao has stayed with him for centuries.

Baekhyun comes out, huffy, brows scrunched together, and drops into his customary loveseat that he lounges on. Turning towards Zitao, Baekhyun sneers. 'So you're nice, huh?'

Zitao swallows down his pride and plays along. He gets through another night.

-

It's on the eighth day, while Baekhyun and Chanyeol are asleep in bed and Zitao is restlessly dozing - feeling uncomfortable with his bonds and wanting to be curled around Jongdae - that he jolts awake from hearing the door being smashed open. He's still squinting, the day is in full swing, while inhaling deep and smelling human blood.

There was a human in the apartment. Zitao feels his fangs sharpen. He hasn't had blood in a week. He's thirsty.

He can't move much at the moment, but should the human enter, maybe Zitao could stand up and jump them, get teeth into their throats and kill them quick before they register anything more than surprise. The human scent is stronger now - blood and sweat and wet earth - and it approaches the bedroom door.

Anticipating the door opening, Zitao tries to straighten up, planting his bound feet against the ground to propel him upwards and into the human.

Except the door doesn't open. Instead there's a knock and then, 'Zitao.'

Zitao stares at the door. Even muffled, the voice, the pronunciation, the command in the tone - 'Chenchen,' he chokes out. 'Master.'

At the reply, the door opens and the human steps in, looking exactly like his Jongdae - flat dark eyes and cheekbones that could cut someone open, small hands with short fingers, and a solid yet tiny build.

'Master,' manages Zitao, squinting at the sunlight that is leaking from the living room and slipping into the hallway where Jongdae is standing. 'Master, you're _human_.'

Jongdae nods, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He flicks on the switch and the rarely used lightbulbs flicker on, casting a glow through the bedroom. Baekhyun and Chanyeol are still asleep despite the front door crashing in. Jongdae looks at them, his face expressionless. 'The stronger you are, the deeper you sleep. Every strength has a weakness - theirs is vulnerability to the day.'

Zitao looks back over his shoulder at them. 'I thought you were just extra sleepy cause you were weak.'

'I wish,' snorts Jongdae. 'My sire was strong, so when I killed him, I lost his power, but I still have to deal with the side-effects.'

'Now you're even weaker,' says Zitao quietly.

Kneeling down in front of Zitao, Jongdae pulls a small pocket knife and starts cutting at the bonds at Zitao's ankles. 'It doesn't matter what I am. What matters is that I get you the fuck out of here.'

'Chenchen,' he says. 'Chenchen, you turned into a human to get me out of here.'

'Shut up, Zitao,' says Jongdae, pulling the ropes away now, restoring strength to Zitao's lower body. 'I'm going to get the bolt cutters.' He gets up and goes back out into the hallway, before coming back with them. Zitao can see Jongdae's arms strain slightly to hold them up and suddenly feels an ache in his chest. Weak. Weaker. Because of _him_. _His_ capture.

Jongdae seemingly doesn't care about the noise - just messily clamps the bolt cutters around the chains and pushes the handles hard. 'Used these to break down the door, did I scare you?' he teases while the chains fall apart around Zitao's wrists.

'We don't even own bolt-cutters,' replies Zitao, not knowing what else to say.

'I took these from the church maintenance closet,' says Jongdae. 'The entire toolbox was too heavy, and I actually sweated under the sun while I walked here. We have a dozen credit cards at home but no change for a bus. Unbelievable.'

'Do humans walk around in daylight with bolt-cutters?' asks Zitao, still staring, as he slumps there on the floor. He can smell the sweat, hear the blood pumping in Jongdae's body, as he tries to piece everything together, but only a wave of hopeless confusion crashes over him.

'I didn't bring anything to kill them,' says Jongdae, ignoring Zitao as he stands up and looks at the two sleeping vampires. 'I don't know any purification rituals and they might wake up if I start hacking at their necks with a bread knife.' He scowls. 'Damn. I hate moving towns because of other vampires, but we might have to.'

' _Chenchen_ ,' says Zitao loudly once he's standing too. Finally, Jongdae looks over at him, looking more fragile than he ever has. Human, mortal Chenchen. 'What did you do?'

Jongdae sighs. 'I was too weak as a vampire to even take one of them on, much less both of them. As a human, I have the advantage of daylight, and I bargained that you'd stay alive as a hostage for a week for me to be able to complete the transformation. There's a priest named Siwon who will do the burial and purification if you ask him - says it's his calling to save the souls of the undead. The process was shit, but he helped me out, gave me bolt-cutters, and sent me on my way.' He holds up the bolt-cutters to look at. 'I'll need to give these back and a pile of cash too before we move.'

'Are - Are you in pain?' asks Zitao hesitantly.

All Jongdae does is smile softly, strained at the corners, and Zitao knows he's in agony.

'Let me kill them,' says Zitao, determination overtaking the hopelessness. 'Let me kill them for my master.'

-

When Baekhyun and Chanyeol wake up, they walk into the living room where Jongdae is sitting on the loveseat, and Zitao is kneeling on the floor before him, his head lying on Jongdae's lap, purring from the back of his throat as Jongdae pets his hair.

Chanyeol is openly surprised at the sight, but Baekhyun quickly covers it up with a slick smile. 'You finally came to pick up your pet.'

'Sorry to keep you waiting,' says Jongdae. 'Your front door was open so I let myself in.'

The two vampires inhale deep, smelling the human off Jongdae, and Baekhyun frowns. 'You're not a bloodsucker anymore.'

'Too bad,' he replies. 'Taozi told me you wanted me to bite you.'

'Now we get to drink _your_ blood,' remarks Chanyeol. 'Let's kill him and take Tao.'

Zitao opens his eyes, raising his head. 'No.'

'More bad news - my pet is saying no,' says Jongdae.

'A human can't be a master to a vampire,' spits out Baekhyun. 'One day, he'll turn on you, bite you, drink your blood, and leave you for dead.'

Immediately, Zitao scowls, 'never,' and Jongdae pets his hair again to calm him down, eyes on Zitao and no one else in the room.

'I died once already for Zitao,' he murmurs, 'what's a second time?' Looking up now, Jongdae smiles at Baekhyun. 'It'll even out the fact that Tao has killed twice for me.'

'Who?' snorts Baekhyun.

'You both,' says Zitao, standing up now, fangs out, nails sharp. 'For my master.'

-

It feels almost anticlimactic. Zitao knows he can win - they caught him off-guard, from behind, the last time. Zitao had a measure of trust within him that had him hesitate, wonder if something was wrong, that made him relax and get caught, taken. Strength doesn't mean much when Zitao has enough technique under his belt to compensate for being younger and not as strong.

This time, Zitao knows better. Zitao has sat on their living room floor and watched their movements, gathered it all up in memory to use against them. He goes for Baekhyun first - who is faster that Chanyeol, but easier to overwhelm with a height difference. Baekhyun ducks the initial swipes at his throat and tries to tear out Zitao's stomach, but Zitao moves back just in time.

From the side, Jongdae is impassive as he watches, seemingly sleepy with his half-lidded eyes, and the fact that his eyes are on Zitao as he watches has his skin prickle with heat. He wants to show Jongdae everything - thankfulness, adoration, and the clear, messy fact that Zitao doesn't care what is wrong or right, that he would indiscriminately murder anyone who threatens his master.

'I'm sorry,' says Zitao softly. 'But you have to die.' Baekhyun's eyes widen, Chanyeol yells, and Zitao slams his foot into Baekhyun's leg. He breaks the bone, making him fall forward onto his knees, and it's the perfect height for Zitao to fist his fingers into Baekhyun's hair, his other nails ripping through the throat, until he pulls Baekhyun's head off messy and bloody, splattering it everywhere.

'Messy, messy,' tuts Jongdae from behind.

Shame blooms in Zitao's chest as he looks over. 'It was for you, Chenchen, I'm sorry.'

'No excuses,' he replies. 'Kill Chanyeol cleanly.'

'Yes, master.'

Chanyeol is cradling Baekhyun's head to his chest, tears streaking his cheeks red as he looks up, angry and horrified at Zitao, who is licking his fingers clean. 'You're a monster.'

'No, no,' says Zitao, feeling the bloodlust take over, wave after wave of power soaking through him. 'I'm in _love_.'

With that, Zitao is lunging forward fast enough for Chanyeol to drop the head and back off. He has a longer reach than Zitao, but Zitao suspects he doesn't know how to use it to his advantage, and he's right. Chanyeol flails swipe after swipe, fumbling for steps to dodge Zitao's quick approach. It's not fast enough - Zitao has mastery over his body, has familiarity with one-on-one combat, and an aching, pulsing _want_ to _kill_.

Against that, Chanyeol can only scream once - a short sound - before he gurgles wetly as Zitao sinks his teeth into his throat and drinks deep. He drinks to sate his thirst of the past week, drinks to savour the victory, tastes to see what life he gave to Jongdae - if it was even delicious enough.

It's not, but Zitao drains him completely before using his claws to slice upon his throat and the tendons underneath until Chanyeol's head drops on the floor with a dull thud, not messy at all this time.

'Good,' says Jongdae. 'So good for me, aren't you?'

Zitao turns to look at Jongdae, feeling a wave of hopeless adoration well up in his chest. 'Master. _Master_.'

'Come here,' he says, extending a hand. 'And kneel.'

'Yes,' replies Zitao, breathless with a desire to please, as he goes down onto his knees, his head tilted upwards to take in Jongdae, who is just as beautiful alive as he is dead, with his dark eyes and sharp cheeks and his perfect, curling mouth. A mouth Zitao wants to kiss so, so badly.

Jongdae pets his hair in silence, a smile on his lips, before he nods and leans forward, kissing the other. Zitao opens up with a low moan, feeling Jongdae suck on his tongue, where the blood is still warm and wet and perfect to drink up. Even as a human, Jongdae is intense - using a touch on Zitao's jaw to make him tilt his head so that Jongdae can taste his fill, unwilling to give up even a drop. His master - a bloodthirsty human. Zitao sighs in sheer lust into Jongdae's mouth.

'Please,' he moans, 'oh _please_.' Jongdae hums and pulls away, his lips so red and flushed and wet, making Zitao keen at the sight.

'Were you scared, Taozi?' whispers Jongdae, hands sliding along Zitao's throat, down down down to the hem of his shirt, pulling at it. 'When I left you with them?'

Zitao raises his arms and lets Jongdae strip him shirtless, arching his spine when he sees Jongdae get up from the chair and kneel on the floor in front of Zitao, fingers going to the waistband of his jeans. 'No, never,' moans Zitao. 'I knew you'd come. Master, master, _please_.'

Placing a hand on Zitao's chest, he gently pushes Zitao onto his back against the floor, and pulls his jeans off completely. 'You looked so beautiful, Taozi,'  murmurs Jongdae, his touch ghosting along Zitao's bare skin as he hovers above him, pupils blown wide with want as he looked down at Zitao. 'They were older than you, stronger than you...'

'For you,' gasps Zitao. 'I'd kill anyone for you.'

'That's right.' Leaning down, Jongdae scrapes his human-dull teeth along Zitao's jaw. 'You'd do _anything_ for your master, for _me_.'

'Just want to be yours.' Naked, bloodstained, with cock hard and curving along his stomach, Zitao lets his thighs fall open and moans loud and slutty. 'All yours.'

'All _mine_ ,' agrees Jongdae with a satisfied hum before his teeth sink into the skin of Zitao's throat. It's not enough to pierce the skin - but it aches so _good_ and Zitao is lost, his nails scratching the floor above his head as he moans and offers himself up.

When Zitao fucks Jongdae there's a measure of carefulness, because Zitao would never hurt his master, and each fuck into Jongdae's body is a reverent offering, a wordless gesture that Zitao knows Jongdae is trusting him with his body and Zitao thinks of it as a gift, a blessing.

When Jongdae fucks Zitao... In the evenings, when Jongdae has just woken up and Zitao is hungry for affection, Jongdae will be sweet with him. He'll slide into Zitao achingly slow and swallow each gasp with a kiss as their hips roll up against each other to get Jongdae's cock deeper and deeper into Zitao's ass, push up where it feels so so fucking good. Jongdae takes softly, gently, for so long that Zitao will be dazed out of his mind and come twice, thrice, before Jongdae finishes inside of him.

Now... _Now_ , Zitao is flush with desire, squirming and half-delirious for something, _anything_ , to relieve this heat under his skin. With bloodthirst sated, Zitao just wants to fuck, wants to worship desperately at the altar of his master. And Jongdae provides - uses his dull teeth and filed down nails to scratch the faintest of lines over Zitao's body, suck marks and flick his tongue over the spots that he knows makes Zitao gasp and whine.

Jongdae's tongue sweeps over old, old bite marks on Zitao's collarbone - and Zitao almost comes as he moans and moans, helpless to do anything else. 'Remember when I found you?' whispers Jongdae against his skin, teeth fitting into the same indents in an impression. 'Remember when I bit you?'

'Made me yours,' sobs out Zitao, back arched to push up into Jongdae's mouth. 'Please, _please_.'

'You've always been mine,' says Jongdae, moving down, toying with a nipple between his teeth, enough for Zitao to squirm at the feeling, his cock twitching. Even as a human, Jongdae is careful - measures out how much he wants to play with Zitao before moving away with a wet noise, eyes on how Zitao's mouth is red and open, noises falling out of him so easily.

Zitao almost whines at the absence of touch before Jongdae's fingers flick both his nipples, making him twitch, and repeats it again and again, just to have Zitao choke on a gasp as he pushes his hips up, trying to get friction on his cock too. It works for an instant - Jongdae is still dressed and Zitao's dick catches onto the fabric of Jongdae's shirt, wetting it with red precome.

'What do you want?' asks Jongdae, retreating altogether, a silent punishment. Zitao looks at Jongdae kneeling between his open thighs and feels another wave of lust hit him - Jongdae's eyes dark and half-lidded, mouth flushed red, everything about him still poised and patient even when Zitao knows how much he gets to Jongdae when he's spread out and begging.

'I want,' moans Zitao, reaching down to curl his fingers under his thighs and hold himself open. 'I want master to fuck me.'

Jongdae's brows draw together for a second, eyes going from dark to soft, the sentiment echoed out in his voice when he asks, quietly, 'even as a human, Taozi?'

'Human for _me_ ,' he reminds Jongdae.

'Like childe, like master,' says Jongdae with a half-smile, and Zitao feels himself melt with affection.

In the next instant, lust slinks back into Jongdae's eyes, and his lips are curving in arrogance as he traces the tips of his fingers up along the back of Zitao's thighs, gaze on his hard cock and ass. 'So desperate but so good, aren't you?' He leans down and swallows the tip of Zitao's cock, sucking hard and licking off the precome.

The pleasure bolts up Zitao's spine and he makes a strangled noise at the sudden warm, wet sensation. Jongdae has always been good at this - mouthing slow and teasing down the length, teeth coming out to nip at the sensitive skin of his balls. Zitao squirms, half-moaning, 'yes, please, master, master,' as Jongdae works.

As a human, Jongdae can't stuff Zitao's cock all the way down his throat without gagging, so he settles for the first half and it's enough. Zitao is a noisy mess, can't think past Jongdae's thumb pushing back the foreskin so he can tongue at Zitao's slit where it feels so fucking good. He leaves wet kisses down to Zitao's sac and sucks a ball between his lips, a constant, heated pressure that has Zitao dizzy as he tries his damndest not to grab onto Jongdae's hair and pull his mouth closer, get it all over him and his cock.

Jongdae pulls away, precome staining the corner of his lips. 'Get on your stomach.'

Scrambling, Zitao turns around on his knees with his cheek pressed against the floor, hands at the side of his head. He thinks of pushing himself up on his elbows, but he doesn't think he'd be able to stay up - not when Jongdae's hands spread open his ass and his breath ghosts over his hole.

'Should I fuck you raw, my Taozi?' asks Jongdae, a finger teasing at Zitao's rim. 'I'd make it hurt so good - have you bleed on my cock.'

Zitao moans - remembers the nights when he came home to Jongdae high off his hunt, looking for a fight or a fuck, and how he'd let Jongdae pin him face down by his neck, other hand on Zitao's hip to keep it up so he could sink in without warning, have Zitao clawing at the floor as he felt himself get opened up and fucked without remorse, deep and hard, making him drool fresh blood as he pushed back against each punishing thrust enough for Jongdae laugh, 'this is what you wanted.' A fight and a fuck in one - bloody and hard and desperate enough for Zitao to come without touch as he frantically fucked himself open on Jongdae's cock, delirious with the pain and pleasure.

The offer now has Zitao groaning from deep within his chest. The idea of Jongdae screwing him until he was bleeding like this - on the same floor he had killed two others, mixing their blood and his, all an offering at the altar of his master. 'Master, fuck me,' he pants, 'please fuck me - '

So caught up that Zitao forgets entirely Jongdae is still fully dressed, until he hears the quick metallic sound of Jongdae undoing the zip of his jeans, a rustle of clothing that means he's pulling his cock out, and just imagining it has Zitao moaning, closing his eyes. 'For my perfect, perfect childe,' murmurs Jongdae from behind him.

The only warning he gets is Jongdae pressing a kiss to his spine before his cockhead notches against Zitao's hole and he's pushing - steady and mean, forcing Zitao's ass to open up around the warm dick inside of him now. The pain is electric, spreading fast under his skin, making Zitao stutter, but Jongdae has no remorse, knowing this is exactly what Zitao wanted.

As human, Jongdae's each thrust has less force in it, but it's still enough to have Zitao hissing and his nails scratching into the floor as he feels spread open, the hurt and the pleasure all mixed up in his head until he can't think anymore. There is only the floor below him and Jongdae above him, and the fact that Zitao was moaning pathetically as he felt himself get fucked deep and hard and _mean_ as he asked for, with the high of bloodlust and desire for his master amplifying each sensation.

It's only made better for the fact that Jongdae knows Zitao's body - has learned and relearned it with each fuck for decades - and so each thrust nails his cock right in the spot that has Zitao keening desperately. He tilts his hips up, an offering, as he tries to get more of it, harder, 'master, fuck, please, _master_ \- '

'What do you want?' asks Jongdae, his voice low and wrecked, the smell of his blood and sweat high in the air, making Zitao's thirst flare up again. 'Want more?'

Zitao makes a high keen from the back of his throat, ' _yes_ ,' and steadies his palms on the floor so he can push back against each thrust, meet Jongdae midway so his cock is so thick and hot and _deep_ inside of Zitao. The sound of their skin slapping echoes out loud, and has them both groan - Jongdae's nails digging harshly into Zitao's hips for a grip as Zitao tries desperately to ride back against his cock.

'Want me to tell you what you look like?' manages Jongdae in harsh pants as he follows the rhythm that Zitao inadvertently sets - unable to compete when human against Zitao's strength and need. Zitao nods quickly, bouncing his ass back to open himself up over Jongdae's cock, listening more intently than ever to what this all sounds like - skin on skin, moans bleary with lust, Jongdae's voice an anchor against the tide of _moremoremore_ that tries to flood Zitao.

Suddenly, a hand is tangling into Zitao's hair, taking a firm grip, making his head arch back to expose his throat, and Zitao lets out a guttural sound at being so vulnerable to Jongdae, his ass going tight around Jongdae's cock enough for Jongdae's hips to stutter in their rhythm and grind into the heat. 'Come up, like this, for your master,' says Jongdae lowly, tugging on Zitao's hair. Zitao follows - straightening up to find himself on his knees, his spine arched, so his head can tilt back onto Jongdae's shoulder. Like this, Jongdae's cock is pinned up against Zitao's sweet spot, and Zitao squirms against the pressure, gasping soundlessly into the air.

'Good,' croons Jongdae right into Zitao's ear - his voice overwhelming each sensation, Zitao's own panting, until Zitao goes still to hear more. 'My beautiful childe, my Taozi,' he hums, pleased. Mindlessly, Zitao moans, and Jongdae kisses his jaw, continuing with his low voice, 'you look so gorgeously desperate on my cock like this.' His hips jar forward, shooting another bolt of sheer pleasure up Zitao's spine until he sobs. 'You look like you just want more and more.'

'Master,' sighs out Zitao, eyes closing. 'Want more of master.'

'I know,' soothes Jongdae, the hold in Zitao's hair sliding down to tighten fingers around his nape. 'So come for master, show me how much you want this.'

'Yes,' says Zitao, body relaxing in response to Jongdae's grip. In return, Jongdae is quick - pushing Zitao forward so Zitao's palms crash on the floor to balance himself as he moans while Jongdae fucks him with a new, harder, _better_ pace than before. Without missing a beat, Zitao meets him for each fuck - his body jolting with how good it feels as the pleasure builds and builds in the pit of his stomach. A part of him wants to see Jongdae's face - how utterly dark and intense his eyes get when he focuses on fucking Zitao into oblivion, wanting to make Zitao see nothing but white at the end.

He almost opens his mouth to ask - or maybe beg, pathetically, all 'just want to see master, oh please, _please_ ,' - but the words never make it out when Jongdae's fingers move from nape to Zitao's leaking cock, fist tightening around the length. The sensations suddenly become too much - friction on his cock, ass opened up - and Zitao is keening from the back of his throat, 'master, _master_ \- '

'Show me,' demands Jongdae - and it's his voice that does Zitao in. The fact that it's so low and utterly wrecked from the fact that he was fucking Zitao - that Zitao was good enough to drive Jongdae past the point of self-control to end up here, fucking Zitao raw with his cock, so heavy and hot inside of Zitao's ass as each thrust rode up his rim and made Zitao tremble.

His stomach goes tight as the pleasure builds. With a low whine, Zitao slams his ass back on Jongdae's cock, feels it press so deep and good inside of him, and grinds up against the pressure until he's coming hard. Behind him, Jongdae moans aloud, ' _fuck_ , Tao,' as Zitao trembles, his cock twitching and spilling come up his stomach and onto the floor in a mess.

'Master,' keens Zitao, feeling boneless now as he rides out the aftershocks, panting wetly against the floor. 'Let me... let me...'

'Did you want me to fuck you until I come?' asks Jongdae, a smirk in his voice as he speaks slow, dragging it out so Zitao has no choice but to imagine it. How Jongdae's cock would use the soreness of Zitao's ass to make him go even tighter, milk Jongdae's cock so well. He shivers, glad to have Jongdae's fingers tracing patterns over Zitao's hips to soothe him, anchor him, as he comes down from his high. 'Do you want me to fill you up with cock and come?'

He doesn't. Zitao shakes his head weakly. 'I want... I want...' He raises himself on his hands, chin dropped to his collarbone as he tried to find the words, to say them clearly, so Jongdae will understand. 'Please, master, want to serve you - want you to... to fuck my mouth.'

Slowly, Jongdae pulls out from Zitao - the heat of him retreating. Another soft sound - of Jongdae moving to sit on the loveseat behind him, presumably spreading his thighs, prepared to beckon Zitao to sit between his knees, to put his mouth on his cock as he wants. Zitao closes his eyes and moans, waiting.

'Come here, pretty Taozi,' says Jongdae softly. Shivering, Zitao pushes himself up on his knees and turns around, moaning at the sight. Even human, Jongdae hasn't lost his easy arrogance, the way his elbow rests on the armrest, fingers resting on the sharp line of his jaw, making his eyes fall half-lidded so he gazes easy and dark over Zitao, never blinking as Zitao moves between his open legs.

There's something in having Zitao kneeling naked, covered in blood and bite marks, his mouth open with want, as Jongdae sits before him still wearing clothes - only his jeans are undone and pushed to his thighs so his cock stands, hard and flush, covered in a sheen of precome and oh - _yes_.

'So greedy,' says Jongdae, trailing a finger up the underside of his cock with a soft moan, extending it to Zitao's mouth for him to lick clean. 'Fucked you raw, made you bleed, and now my Taozi wants a taste.'

Zitao moans, tasting the precome and blood, eyes closing as he savours it. 'Master,' he sighs out. ' _Please_.'

'All for you,' says Jongdae, voice so soft. 'My gorgeous, killing childe.'

With that, Zitao opens his eyes and leans forward, taking Jongdae's cock into his mouth. He fits in half, tonguing at the length to get the taste, all of it. Jongdae hisses, head tipped back as he watches Zitao work. He's too far gone to keep a lid on his voice, and it's Zitao's favourite thing to listen to.

He keeps at it - sinking his mouth down to the base, fitting Jongdae's cock down his throat and swallowing around it so Jongdae groans out a, ' _fuck_ , Tao', so Zitao will do it again. Doing so, Zitao tries to taste all of Jongdae's cock, wanting more and more. He pulls off to wetly kiss his way to Jongdae's balls, laving them with his tongue. Immediately, Jongdae hisses, so Zitao sucks on the sensitive skin, lapping up the taste desperately.

Finally, Jongdae tangles his fingers in Zitao's hair, taking a grip, testing it by slowly pulling Zitao's mouth off his sac with a wet sound. 'Thought you wanted me to fuck your mouth,' says Jongdae, his voice a little breathless, and Zitao nods, jaw relaxing and mouth dropping open in affirmation.

Jongdae guides Zitao's mouth over his cock, letting Zitao wet it again with shallow bobs of his head, before Zitao hears a, 'take it, then'. There is no hesitation in the way Jongdae fucks Zitao's mouth - fully confident that Zitao can take it. He _can_ \- no need to breathe or gag, not the way humans do - and accepts the roughness, the way Jongdae's cock pushes past his lips to go down his throat and then retreat.

There is always rhythm - never messy, even if Zitao imagines he could take messiness. The rhythm is quick enough for Jongdae's sac to slap against Zitao's chin, the sound so obscene, but not as much as the wetness that slicks over Jongdae's cock from Zitao's mouth, nor the moans Jongdae makes as he gets his cock deeper and deeper.

Zitao hollows out his cheeks and sucks, wants to give the friction Jongdae is looking for as he forces his cock in and out of Zitao's lips. Jongdae stutters, 'yes, fuck, Tao, so good' as he keeps going - hard, deep, quick, but still with a pattern, still with a steadiness that has Zitao sinking into his head.

He relaxes in tune to each thrust, shoulders slumping and humming all pleased as Jongdae fucks his mouth. His eyes have gone half-hooded and he can only see the blurred image of Jongdae sitting before him - his cheeks flush and mouth open with moans, still dressed as he uses up a naked, messy, _filthy_ Zitao at his feet.

The dichotomy slides down Zitao's spine and he moans - unable to help the sudden rush of heat through him again. Without realizing it, Zitao can feel himself get hard again - and he whines around Jongdae's cock, eyes unable to look away from Jongdae's face, mouth tasting the thickening precome, the blood, and the scent of blood and sweat and _human_ all around them that Jongdae exudes. It's all too much - and despite the short time, he's hard again, wanting to come again, with Jongdae fucking his throat open.

He moans again, louder, more desperate, and sees the corner of Jongdae's mouth curl as he realizes what's happened. 'So fucking _desperate_ ,' he says with a groan. 'Love this so much.'

Zitao sucks around Jongdae's cock hard in agreement, wants Jongdae to know he's so eager to be with his master, especially like this - where Jongdae is using up all that Zitao has to give, filling him back up with cock and words so that Zitao will be warm and sated and loved.

'Fuck your hand,' says Jongdae, 'while I fuck your mouth.' Keening, Zitao pushes a hand off Jongdae's thigh and curls his calloused, long fingers around his sensitive cock, before jerking himself off to the same rhythm that Jongdae slams into his mouth, balls slapping against his chin like a reminder of how slutty and wanton this, how Jongdae will give it to him no matter what.

Like this, Zitao is overwhelmed. There's too much - friction on his cock, Jongdae using him up, setting a rhythm that has dictated the way Zitao moves, reacts, because he's not in control anymore. He feels like he's sinking, drowning, under a tidal wave of want and adoration as his hips buck into his hand with the same tune that Jongdae's cock sinks right down his throat.

Everything slows down and speeds up all at once - Zitao can savour each sensation spreading through his body, electrifying him inside and out, until it's suddenly tightening his balls to his body and he's moaning desperately around Jongdae's cock, already ready to come. He keens out loud, burying his face into Jongdae's abdomen to choke on his cock as he jerks himself off, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure feels overwhelming.

There should be punishment for breaking the rhythm - and if Jongdae was still unchanged, he would rip Zitao's mouth away, ask him scathingly what he deserves if he can't even handle getting his mouth fucked. As a human, Jongdae has no strength - but it doesn't matter, Jongdae always turns things his way. He's petting Zitao's hair now, mouth dripping filth, 'you going to come again? Came while I fucked your ass open, like you deserved, and again, like this? Choking on cock? Going to be a desperate mess like this?'

Zitao moans, sobs, and Jongdae croons, petting his hair. 'Go on then, show me, show me what you want.'

Frantically, Zitao bobs his head over Jongdae's cock, his hand tightening around himself as he jerks himself off quickly. His second orgasm builds faster than his first one - unable to stop as it slides down his spine and brings his balls up, makes his cock jerk more precome. Groaning, Zitao loses himself - he can't think anymore, can't figure out what to do with his body except to keep going, eyes slipping shut.

Always attentive, Jongdae takes over for him. Grabs Zitao's hair and slams his cock back in the same time Zitao begins to come. He chokes on his own moan while Jongdae fucks his mouth through his orgasm. The come covers Zitao's fingers, spills over the floor, another stain of what they've done, but Zitao doesn't even consider it for now, just becomes caught up in what Jongdae wants.

'You're always so good, so good,' says Jongdae breathlessly, ramping his hips up to completely stuff his cock down Zitao's throat, feel the way Zitao swallows around the cockhead to make Jongdae moan. 'So gorgeous, going to use you up, my Taozi.'

Zitao moans in reply, mind drifting, feeling dreamy, as he registers how Jongdae keeps fucking his mouth, how his lips must be so bruised and stained with precome and blood, how lovely he must look all relaxed and wanting. Jongdae doesn't take long, doesn't drag it out for himself. He's rough and mean, uses up Zitao's mouth as promised, grip on his hair forcing Zitao down so he can choke on Jongdae's cock while Jongdae finally, finally, comes.

His come is different as a human - thick and bitter but still innately tasting of Jongdae - and Zitao doesn't sputter once as he swallows it all down, keeps sucking at Jongdae's cock to make sure he's got every drop, unwilling to pull away until Jongdae's cock has gone soft between his lips and Jongdae is making low sounds of oversensitivity as he keeps petting Zitao's hair.

A minute passes before Zitao finally lets go and looks up at Jongdae, feeling fucked out of his mind as he usually does after a round with Jongdae. Jongdae takes a deep breath, fingers still brushing repetitively through Zitao's hair, 'my perfect Zitao.'

'Yours, master,' replies Zitao softly, adoringly.

They move languidly towards to the bedroom, and for the first time in days, Zitao sleeps peacefully curled around his master.

-

**2020**

'I smelled other vampires tonight,' says Zitao, one hand clasped loosely around the steering wheel as he drives through the empty streets of Seoul at three in the morning. 'Two of them. Introduced myself, and they said they wanted to meet us out in the country.'

'Is that where you're taking me?' asks Jongdae, lounging in the passenger seat, his hand tracing along the dashboard as he peers out the open window. 'Or is this an excuse to show off your new engine?'

'Isn't it nice?' croons Zitao. 'She _purrs_ now.'

Jongdae laughs under his breath but doesn't comment, humming to the song playing through the stereo.

'Sing,' says Zitao, a hand reaching over to brush fingers along Jongdae's throat. 'See if you can beat the new sound system too.'

Rolling his eyes, Jongdae bats away Zitao's hand and tangles their fingers instead, looking out at the passing landscape as he opens his mouth and tries out a note. It falters for a moment, before gaining momentum, and Jongdae overpowers the song itself - lets himself echo out within the car, spilling his voice out onto the streets from the window.

'Even changed, you can still do it,' says Zitao, squeezing their fingers tight.

'Who told you I was scared to try?' snorts Jongdae.

'Chenchen gets all twitchy and annoyed when bringing the subject up,' he replies, grinning, just to hear the other's scoff. 'Be nice to these two tonight. I like them already, and I think you will too.'

'First ones in five years to arrive in Seoul,' murmurs Jongdae to himself. 'Probably scared the rest off with those reports over the years of vampires being killed. These ones will be strong then.'

The tone of Jongdae's voice has Zitao suddenly tightening his grip on the steering wheel. 'They won't touch you.'

'They couldn't even if they tried, Taozi,' says Jongdae, running his thumb over Zitao's knuckles as they held hands.

-

The first one is short, with a handsome pale face and gentle smile. The second one is Zitao's height, also pale with a stern, somber expression. Zitao waves in greeting, leaving his car on the side of a country road as they walk to the farm house in the countryside. 'I brought Chen!'

Jongdae tags along beside him, and Zitao can't help but angle himself a little bit forward and in front of the other - an instinctual habit to protect his master. Of course, he catches Jongdae hiding a smile as he notices Zitao's behaviour, but he's silently indulgent, falling back a step for Zitao to feel better.

The two welcome them into the farmstead, the human owners knocked unconscious and put to bed for the night. Jongdae sits next to Zitao, eyes taking in the detail of the place. It smells overwhelmingly human, and clearly the other two have fed on them, but both Zitao and Jongdae are sated from earlier.

'Pleased to meet you, Chen,' says the short, handsome one. 'My name is Junmyeon, and this is my childe Sehun.'

Jongdae peers at Junmyeon before smiling back. 'Tao said you guys had to ask my permission before moving into the city, didn't he?'

Zitao huffs beside him in embarrassment. 'That's not it - we were going to talk it over after tonight.'

'It doesn't matter,' says Jongdae, waving Zitao's words away.

'Why not?' says Sehun, eyebrows creased together. 'What's the point of being holed up in this farm then?'

'Manners, Sehun-ah,' says Junmyeon.

Sehun clenches his jaw. 'Sorry.'

Zitao feels himself looking at them both, eyes wide in curiosity. Feeling something like familiarity at their behaviour, interactions - small master Junmyeon and his childe Sehun. Unable to help it, he finds himself smiling to himself, a little foolish, as he looks between them and then at Jongdae, who is his own small master, even now. Even changed like this.

'Your master is doing it out of protection,' says Jongdae, dropping his deadweight-heavy gaze on Sehun, and Zitao feels almost a little bit bad for him. Hard to not feel a little uncomfortable under the intensity. 'It doesn't matter because the vampires that killed the other vampires in Seoul are now dead. By our hand.'

'That makes you killers too,' says Junmyeon, voice even, drawing Jongdae's attention away. 'Are you continuing their tradition?'

'This city is big enough for twenty vampires,' says Jongdae. 'You two won't be a problem for us.'

'Unless you try to kill us first,' adds in Zitao. 'But it's more fun to just live with each other.'

Junmyeon looks at Zitao, then starts to laugh softly, his handsome face crinkling up. Watching, Zitao smiles widely in reply, already delighted by them. Beside Junmyeon, Sehun shakes his head, as if in disbelief, before nudging his master. 'We can't just trust them.'

'Your choice,' says Jongdae with a shrug. 'But Tao's right - it's been awhile since we had company.'

'We'll be fine,' says Junmyeon, looking at Sehun. 'Just don't try to pick a fight with Tao's master.'

'I'm not stupid - !' sputters Sehun, making Junmyeon laugh again. The sight seems promising to Zitao, who already wants to reach over and touch them. Get to know them inside out as they used to with other pairs in the past centuries. With the way Jongdae is smirking beside him, he knows Jongdae is glad for the companionship too.

'We have a guest bedroom, if you'd like. With darkened curtains. Sehunnie can stay there if he's so upset of being here,' says Zitao.

This time, Sehun turns towards him, ' _Sehunnie_?' but Junmyeon nods, standing up.

'Your car is a four-door?'

'Of course,' says Zitao.

'Mine was one too before I sold it,' says Junmyeon absently, with Sehun's added, 'it was too obnoxious of a sports car, anyway.'

Zitao can feel a childish delight rise up in his chest, 'you used to have a _sports_ car? Our kind never have a car in the first place.'

'They just don't have any taste for the real gifts of eternity, don't you think, Tao?' smiles Junmyeon, a twinkle in his eye, and Zitao is halfway in love.

-

Later, Jongdae will press up against Zitao, his fingers absently tracing over the bitemarks on Zitao's collarbone, and say, 'I like them, but I agreed because I see you like them more.'

Immediately, Zitao's arms go tight around Jongdae's waist. 'Not more than you.'

'No,' agrees Jongdae. 'But maybe differently.'

'Is... is that okay?'

Jongdae looks up at him through the dark. 'If I asked you that, what would you say?'

Hesitant, Zitao tries for words. 'I... I would be okay with it, only as long as you were _my_ master. I just - '

'You're mine. Forever,' says Jongdae immediately, fiercely, not letting Zitao go with his gaze. 'But will you always be mine if they stay here?'

'Of course,' says Zitao without pause.

'Then it's okay,' says Jongdae, leaning up to kiss his mouth softly. 'It'll be Chenchen and Taozi, and Junmyeon and Sehun, in Seoul. Together.'

'Thank you,' says Zitao, closing his eyes, kissing Jongdae back. 'Master,' he says with each kiss after that. 'Master, love you, master, thank you, master, _master_ \- '

And Jongdae kisses him back, taking care of him in every moment.

-

One night, it is Sehun that brings it up: 'how is Chen your master when he smells like you, not the other way around.'

Zitao, busy trying to introduce Sehun to accessorizing his pretty boring wardrobe, credit to Junmyeon's lack of taste, just shrugs as he tightens the bracelet of diamonds around Sehun's wrist. 'You should ask Chenchen. It's...' Zitao pauses, going still.

Sehun pulls his wrist away and cups Zitao's hands instead, voice soft and apologetic. 'It's okay.'

Smiling gratefully, Zitao nods, tangles their fingers together. 'Yeah. It's okay now.' He looks down, where the bracelet glints. 'And it's nice to not be alone in the city anymore either.'

'Hyung likes it here too,' says Sehun. 'We'll probably stay here for a while.'

'You should.' Zitao grins this time. 'I think hyung likes Chenchen a lot.'

Sehun makes a face. 'Don't say that, I don't want two masters.'

'Would you agree if you could be _my_ master?' purrs Zitao.

Flustered, Sehun pulls away. 'I don't - _Tao_ \- and Chen-hyung would kill me - !'

'Just stay,' he says, laughing. 'Stay with us.'

'I will,' replies Sehun, throwing a half-smile at him. 'We will.'

-

**2015**

'You can't stay like this.' Zitao feels anchored, slowed down, with the pace Jongdae sets as they walk from Baekhyun and Chanyeol's apartment building to their home. They had washed off the blood from themselves - Zitao reverently wiping it off Jongdae's skin, making sure he was clean and unsullied from the entire thing. Now, though - Jongdae smells so overwhelmingly human that Zitao feels like he can't keep his fangs in, but he does - because Jongdae is still his _master_. So absolutely that even as human Zitao can't find it in himself to disobey anything  he says.

Jongdae shakes his head, looking down at his hands and then the streetlights all around them that illuminate the creases of his palm. It makes Zitao realize that Jongdae can't see through the dark anymore. His chest _aches_. 'Master, please, we can find another vampire, we can have them bite you, turn you again.'

'I don't want another master,' says Jongdae, dropping his hands to the side and looking out into the street, not at Zitao. 'Anyway... There's no guarantee I'll return back an undead. I've already done it once. I've never heard of anyone doing it twice.'

Zitao flinches but still grabs one of Jongdae's hands, threads their fingers together and squeezes - but not too tight. Human, he's human. 'I don't want you to die, Chenchen.'

'We all die eventually,' murmurs Jongdae. 'I'm glad I'll get to die before you.'

'And you think - you think _I'll_ be okay?' he snaps - fast and mean, rounding on Jongdae, eyes flashing and fangs out.

Jongdae's eyes widen and he rears back - fear and caution flashing over his face, and Zitao backs off entirely, letting go of Jongdae to hide his face behind his hands. 'Sorry, I'm sorry.'

'Taozi...' says Jongdae softly. 'I don't regret it.'

'I know you don't,' he says. 'That's the worst part. I know you don't.' He feels his eyes burning, and he's crying, letting the tears streak down his cheeks. 'I wish you would.'

'That's unfair, Taozi.' Jongdae moves forward, curling his arms around Zitao, holding him close. 'It's been a long time since I've seen this sun. This isn't half-bad.'

'You love being immortal,' mumbles Zitao, burying his nose in Jongdae's hair, smelling him, thinking this is what his scent would be like if they had met as humans, as farmboys on the plains of China.

'You're being very hard to comfort right now, you brat,' says Jongdae, and Zitao can hear the smile in his face. How it must be a little sad, a little strained at the corners. Soft and plaintive, but not regretful.

'I hate you so much,' says Zitao.

'I know.' Jongdae kisses his mouth softly. 'Let's go home.'

-

It's uneasy for a while - Zitao never craves for Jongdae's blood, he's better than that, but he can still smell the uniquely human scent of Jongdae that permeates through the apartment. They don't sleep together anymore - not even in the day, when Zitao just wants to hold him close, keep him safe.

Jongdae says they have a spare bedroom for a reason and he can work through the day while Zitao sleeps. When Zitao wakes, Jongdae is already in bed, faking sleep if his heart rate is any indication when Zitao peeks into his room. They talk in intermittent intervals of twilight and sunrise, and Zitao almost prefers it that way.

Seeing Jongdae become weak, even _weaker_ , all for Zitao, has Zitao _aching_ in a way that he wish he could claw out of himself. Something not quite guilt, not quite desire, ever-shifting in the pit of his stomach when he sees his master relying on food, water, sleep. These primal, _mortal_ things.

Then one day Jongdae is sitting on the couch when Zitao wakes up. He smells of blood - hot and fresh, and he looks up at Zitao blankly, 'I cut my hand with the kitchen knife and... it's so strange.' His brows crease and he holds out his bloodstained hand, the blood that kept welling up from the cut onto his skin. 'I keep expecting it to heal, like I used to, even when I _know_ that's not going to happen, I - ' Jongdae's voice cracks and he shuts his eyes, clenching his jaw, trying to reign it in. ' _Zitao_.'

Zitao knows a cry for help when he hears one. He goes to his knees, taking Jongdae's hands in his own, and presses his nose to Jongdae's cheek, leaves a soft kiss to his jawline, tries to ease away the minute shaking he can feel now that he's this close. Jongdae breathes in deep, then buries his face in Zitao's throat, still shivering just a little.

For a long time, Zitao holds him. Until the wound finally scabs over. Until Jongdae's heart rate goes back down. Until Jongdae falls asleep with wet eyes pressed against Zitao's throat. Zitao picks him up and puts him to bed.

-

It's Zitao who breaks first.

The world will end before Jongdae admits to weakness he can't immediately cover for, so Zitao has to break first. Has to force Jongdae to say it, confess it.

'I can't do this,' he says, tone a little desperate, as Jongdae comes home late and Zitao is already awake, sitting on their couch, his entire frame tense.

'Taozi,' says Jongdae, a little surprised, as he comes close to Zitao. He smells like the outside. Like what sunlight must smell like, and also smoke, food, sweat, others' scents - people with perfumes and colognes and deodorants that Jongdae navigated past throughout his day with other humans before coming back home to Zitao. Underneath, it's what's underneath it all that Zitao is looking for - the smell of Jongdae, of _home_ , that he can't find anymore.

'I can't - ' starts Zitao again, voice cracking. 'I can't do this.'

Jongdae stands there, at the entrance of the living room, and looks at Zitao, who stands up too now. 'Are you leaving now?' he asks, his tone soft but not accusing. Just a question. Like Zitao was just a guest all this time, taking up time of the precious host.

'Don't say it like that,' says Zitao, flinching. 'I'm not leaving. I - I just... seeing you like this. Weak, _vulnerable_. And _you_ don't even like it.'

'Whether I like it or not doesn't matter,' says Jongdae, brow creasing together. 'I can handle it. I can be a mortal.'

'You don't _want_ to!'

'I can't change that, Zitao.'

'I've - I've asked around. I've read some things.' He tries so hard not to stutter, but it's so difficult, especially about this. 'I - I don't want to do this, see you like this. I want to...'

Jongdae's expression is at least sympathetic. 'What do you want?'

'I want to bite you,' says Zitao, looking at Jongdae, stubborn to the last. 'You don't want a sire or a master, but - I - I want you to be strong again. I want you to be okay again. And I would never... I want _you_ to be my master. I...'

'So that's what you've been busy with,' says Jongdae with a faint smile. 'Researching.'

'Master...'

'Is me dying a risk you're willing to take?'

Zitao flinches. 'I... try not to think about it.'

'I'm willing,' says Jongdae. He walks up to Zitao, reaching up to cup his neck and make him look down. 'And you're strong now aren't you? Fought off those two who were older than you, stronger than you.' Zitao leans into the warm touch, nodding. 'You'll be strong enough to handle it.'

Handle what, Zitao wants to ask but he knows the answer. He'll be strong enough to handle accidentally killing Jongdae.

-

He doesn't, of course.

'You made me, and now I'll make you,' says Zitao as he hovers above Jongdae, who is lying flat on his back, shirt pulled off for Zitao to nose along his clavicle. 'Love you, master. Love you so much.'

'C'mon, Taozi,' murmurs Jongdae, and Zitao nods, kisses him, and bites his collarbone, right where Jongdae had bit him centuries ago.

-

Jongdae wakes up seven days later from his delirium.

Already awake and pacing the room, Zitao almost jumps on him when he notices. The sheets of the bed are wrecked from spilled blood, the way Jongdae clawed at them from his pain, how the body finally drained itself of what it didn't need except blood.

The first thing Jongdae does is sit up and crinkle his nose. 'Smells fucking awful in here.'

'Master,' sighs out Zitao, uncaring of the mess as he crawls on top of the bed, cupping Jongdae's cheeks between his hands and kissing him once, twice. 'It worked, it worked.'

Jongdae smiles, kisses him back. 'Now we finally have a birthday for me, don't we? No need to share your own.'

Zitao pulls away, staring at him incredulously. ' _That_ 's what you think about?'

'It's important to you,' replies Jongdae, shrugging.

'It is, but - ' Flustered, Zitao pulls away and stands at the foot of the bed. 'Try thinking of yourself right now instead of... me...'

'Cute,' grins Jongdae, propping his chin in his hand, looking so beautiful in the dark of the room, comfortable again under his skin, the skin of the undead. He moves - quick, smooth - off the bed, and holds up his hands in front of him, clenching and unclenching his fists. 'I'm home.'

'Took you long enough, c'mon, c'mon, let's test out your strength,' says Zitao, tugging at his arm. 'Are you still - still weak?'

'I fucking hope not,' says Jongdae, lip curling back in disgust. 'You're not dead yet.'

'Don't make killing your sires a habit,' says Zitao dryly as they both move to the open space of the living room. 'Okay, okay, punch me.'

Jongdae creases his brow. 'You sure?'

'Of course I'm sure. I can heal.'

He looks doubtful, but obediently curls his hand into a fist and brings it back the way Zitao had trained him once. In an instant, Jongdae lunges forward, fist hurtling forward at a speed Zitao doesn't expect. He brings up his forearm to at least deflect it, but he times it wrong, has Jongdae's fist splintering the bone beneath the skin as Zitao hurtles back and falls onto his ass with a thud.

'Oh shit,' says Jongdae, eyes wide, 'shit, Zitao - are you okay - _shit_ \- '

'I'm fine, fuck, it'll heal in a night,' says Zitao, cradling his broken arm to his chest, staring up at Jongdae. 'What the hell, Chenchen?'

'Well, it'd be backwards if the childe was weaker than the sire, how would our kind survive for generations,' says Jongdae, staring at Zitao's arm still. 'My sire was about as strong as they came - so I was strong beyond imagining when I was turned. I lost it all when I got rid of him, but passed the blood onto you, and you passed it twofold onto me.'

Zitao's head drops back as he closes his eyes. 'You're stronger than me.'

'As your childe, yes.' Jongdae kneels down and brushes his fingers along the broken arm. 'You gave it back to me. Gave me _everything_ I lost, twice over.'

Opening his eyes, Zitao looks at Jongdae, sees the half-lidded reverence on his face as he gazes upon Zitao, from his face to his throat, all the way down. He leans forward a little, brushing his mouth over the arc of Jongdae's cheek, leading to the corner of his lips. This close, and Zitao could drown in the softness of Jongdae's gaze, how unabashedly in love Jongdae is with him, something Zitao has always known but still feels overwhelmed by.

'I didn't... you did it all,' mumbles Zitao, shy and hopelessly adoring, as he stays close to Jongdae, bumping noses against each other, pressing little butterfly kisses over his face. Jongdae smiles and meets him for each touch, indulging Zitao in his want for touch.

'My new sire,' breathes out Jongdae, 'my perfect Zitao.'

'Yours, all yours, master.' Zitao kisses him properly this time, presses himself close despite his arm.

This is how Jongdae makes Zitao and is remade by him.

-

**Author's Note:**

> my first vampire au~! thank you for reading; I hope you enjoyed!!


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